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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595492">The Long and Winding Road</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/veilofimagination/pseuds/veilofimagination'>veilofimagination</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure tri.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Background Relationships, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fate &amp; Destiny, Friendship, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Self-Sacrifice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:08:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>124,347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595492</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/veilofimagination/pseuds/veilofimagination</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Taichi returned. A battle was won. In the aftermath, scars - physical, emotional and psychological - remain. Taichi can't close his eyes without seeing red flashes, shirts soaked in blood, and hearing "dream big". Yamato feels ill and empty every time Taichi leaves his sight, desperate to hold on to what easily could have been lost. How exactly does one move on with their lives knowing all that was sacrificed in order to save the world a third time? Maybe Courage and Friendship can't overcome all demons....</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida &amp; Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya, Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida/Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya, Izumi Koushirou | Izzy Izumi &amp; Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>406</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>477</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Writing this was a return to a past love, as (at very least) quarantine has graced me with the ability to return to such things: Digimon and, specifically, Digimon Tri. And, as I was watching it (again), I started to think about the trauma that Taichi and Yamato must have gone through after those events - quarantine has also given me a lot of time to reflect on my own PTSD. I struggle to articulate mine, so... I thought I'd articulate theirs. </p><p>(Picks up where Tri left off - minor canon divergence, playing with time a bit. Warnings: Anxiety, PTSD discussion, and a focus on Taichi's/Yamato's relationship, including romantic, although you could probably read this and still enjoy it even if you don't ship them.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter One: Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>“Quiet nights of quiet stars, </em><br/><em>Quiet chords from my guitar</em><br/><em>Floating on the silence that surrounds us.”</em><br/><em>-Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars (Corcovado), Andy Williams </em></strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s quiet. The light from the bridge skims off the water, and while the air has a chill to it, one could consider the evening peaceful. The river embankment is empty, save for a few beings; the river empty of vessels, the few reminiscent waves crashing lightly against the shore as the water calms itself. The perpetual traffic seems to have lulled itself to sleep. There’s a hum in the distance to assure the few beings sitting on the embankment that city still exists, but overall, it’s quiet.</p><p>It hardly feels like a battle just occurred.</p><p>Yet, it had. Ordinemon had fallen, struck down by Omegamon’s attack. Meicoomon destroyed in the process. <em>Destroyed by you, </em>Taichi thinks as he sits on the ground, observing the scene. <em>Destroyed by your decision. Your choices.</em></p><p>In the aftermath, Meiko had fallen to the ground. Her anguish filled the air. Mimi and Sora had rushed to her, arms wrapping around their friend, tears falling down all three girl’s faces. They had held her, crouched in the dirt, waves crashing against their knees, until Mimi and Sora were able to guide Meiko to her feet. Sora had paused momentarily to squeeze Taichi’s shoulder – <em>‘Thank god you came back,</em>’ she had whispered, as she scooped up Yokomon and Tanemon. Then, supporting Meiko between them, Sora and Mimi had made their way to the street and out of sight.</p><p>Hikari had also crumbled. Her arms reaching out to hug Nyaromon, gripping tightly. <em>‘I will probably never forgive you,’</em> Hikari had said and although she had joined the fight, there was a part of him that knew it was true. Taichi’s gut had tightened at the sight of her on the ground, clutching Nyaromon, but he hadn’t moved towards her. Instead, Takeru had put his arms around her, easing her from the ground, and together they had disappeared from the river. </p><p><em>None of them will ever forgive you. </em>Taichi thinks to himself.<em> You destroyed Meicoomon. Your friend. A choice none of them would have made. Meiko, Sora, Mimi, Takeru— Hikari… They’ll never forgive you.</em></p><p>“Look at me, Taichi,” comes Jou’s voice, breaking Taichi out of his thoughts. Jou is crouched in front of where Taichi is sat on the ground. Jou moves his finger slowly in front of Taichi’s face and studies Taichi’s response. “I need you to track my finger.”</p><p>“Jou, I told you – I feel fine.” Taichi says, trying to sound stern, swatting Jou’s hand out of the air. “I am <em>fine.”</em></p><p>“Humour me.”</p><p>Taichi sighs and follows Jou’s instructions. Behind Jou stands Koushiro, a concerned look knitted across his face. Koushiro clings to his computer, knuckles white, and Motimon, perched upon his shoulder, shares his partner’s look of concern. Bukamon leans against Koushiro’s ankle, staying back to let Jou attend to Taichi. ‘<em>It’s okay, Jou will take care of him.’</em> Bukamon had previously whispered to Motimon and Koushiro, neither one assured.</p><p>Another foot back from Koushiro, Yamato sits on stone that has found itself stuck in the embankment, Tsunomon asleep in his lap. Koromon sits at Yamato’s feet, having previously been ushered away from Taichi, in Jou’s haste to assess him.</p><p><em>If Koushiro looks concerned, </em>Taichi thinks, looking at his friend, <em>Yamato looks tortured. </em>Yamato’s resolve during the battle had left his face the moment Ordinemon fell. Since then, a blend of emotions has been etched across his face – worry, exhaustion, anger, relief. A tapestry that Taichi had been unable to interpret. Taichi tries to throw his friends a reassuring smile, but its thin. No one’s concern dissipates from their face. Yamato continues to look at him like if he stops staring, Taichi would disappear any second, just dissolve and blink out of existence. Taichi hates it. He’s not made of glass.</p><p>“Stand up, Taichi.” Jou directs, breaking his thoughts, again.</p><p>Taichi grumbles and issues feeble threats of violence in a futile attempt to shoo Jou away. But Jou shoots him a look and Taichi reluctantly stands. <em>Just indulge him, </em>he thinks. Jou proceeds to assess him for serious damage, hands lightly pressing into Taichi to check for broken bones. Finally, after what seems like an eternity of needless prodding, Jou stands back.</p><p>“Doesn’t look like any serious damage. You’ll definitely be sore for a few days. You’ve been incredibly lucky…” Jou’s voice trails off. <em>For someone who fell through a hole in the ground</em>, Taichi completes the thought in his head.</p><p>Taichi sinks back down to the ground and holds his arms out. Instantly, Koromon fills them. A small smile escapes, despite the circumstances. <em>I missed you. I thought I may never see you again. I’m so glad you’re still here. Unlike… </em>Taichi shuts down his thoughts, clutching Koromon, fingers running up Koromon’s sides.</p><p>“Can you tell us happened? Where did you go when you fell?” Koushiro’s voice fills the silence.</p><p>Taichi closes his eyes. <em>‘Dream big…’ A hand reaching up, fist closing. Hands pressed against cold glass, 3… 2… - </em>“I don’t remember.” Taichi says aloud. A lie.</p><p>“How’d you get back? Was there another distortion? Or did you find a portal? How did you open one?” Koushiro tries again. “Do you remember anything?” Taichi stares down at Koromon. He opens his mouth to lie again.</p><p>“Enough.” Taichi looks up. Yamato has gotten up from where he was perched. His voice is steely, eyes narrowing at Koushiro and Jou. “Let him be, Koushiro. He says he doesn’t remember.”</p><p>Koushiro stiffens under Yamato’s assault. “I just want to make sure we have all the data.”</p><p>“He says he doesn’t remember.”</p><p>Taichi knows he should say something. But he can’t. Doesn’t want to. His voice is stuck in his throat. He leans back instead and lays back on the ground, averting his gaze from the three worried boys standing before him. Reflexively, Koromon curls up in the crook between his arm and side. Taichi looks at the sky, tuning out his friends. The sky is quiet. A few stars, maybe planes, but it seems peaceful. He longs to lose himself in the silence. The silence forgets.</p><p>Jou’s voice again. Startling him out of his daze. “We should get home.”</p><p>Taichi sits up on his elbows. He doesn’t want to go home yet. He doesn’t want to leave the silence. <em>Plus, Hikari is probably at home and… </em>Well, he’s not ready for that. Not yet. It’s peaceful out here and who knows what further chaos, what further decisions, await him if he leaves the embankment and walks back into the Real World. He’s courageous, but its faltering.</p><p>Yamato looks at him. Taichi averts his eyes. “I’ll get him home, Jou. You and Koushiro go along. Check on the others.”</p><p>Jou hesitates but finally nods and picks up Bukamon. “I’ll call you tomorrow to check on you,” he says to Taichi, who nods. Then, he puts his arm around the worried Koushiro and the two of them walk away from the river – walk away from the battle – and head to the safety and peace of their homes.</p><p>Taichi lays back in the dirt. Crisis adverted, momentarily. He closes his eyes and wills the quiet to swallow him. Well, it’s almost silent again. Taichi can hear Yamato scuffing his shoe in the dirt. A nervous tick or a concerned tick, he isn’t sure which. Taichi can feel Yamato’s eyes on him.</p><p>“Stop that.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“I said stop that. You can stop staring at me.” Taichi rises up to his elbows again and looks at his friend. Yamato pauses and Taichi can tell he’s taking a steadying breath. Taichi sits up further and rubs his hand against the nape of his neck, a comforting gesture. “Please Yamato.” His tone is serious.</p><p>“Taichi?”</p><p>“I can put up with the staring and prodding from Jou and Koushiro – and everyone else. Looking at me out of the sides of their eyes, checking to make sure I’m in one piece and haven’t disappeared.”  <em>Again. </em>Taichi pauses, then lets his face fall into his hands and sputters out the rest of the words, as if he can’t push them out quickly enough: “Not you, okay? I need to feel normal. I’m fine.” He takes in a ragged breath. Pats the ground beside him. “I’m just not ready to go home yet.”</p><p>“Okay.” Yamato’s voice is uneven. Anxious. Littered with uncharacteristic hesitance. He takes the spot Taichi has patted. He drags his eyes away from Taichi and towards the river. But his hand sneaks a bit closer, his arm brushing Taichi’s.</p><p>The two young men sit in silence. Taichi leans back again in the dirt, eyes scanning the sky again, willing the peaceful silence to take hold of him. After a few minutes, Yamato lays back beside him, Koromon and Tsunomon curl up between them. Arms still barely touching; Yamato’s averted his eyes, turning them upwards to the sky, but the slight brushing of skin tells Taichi he needs to know Taichi is still there.</p><p>The minutes drag on in silence. Then, Yamato, in a quiet, tight, voice says:</p><p>“Do you know how scared we all were?”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Scar on the Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Two: Scar on the Sky</strong>
</h4>
<h4>
  <strong> <em>Yamato</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong><em>"As I fall I leave a scar upon the sky </em><br/>
<em>A simple note for you I wait for your reply</em><br/>
<em>And in your answer I regain the will to try”</em><br/>
<em>-Scar on the Sky, Chris Cornell</em> </strong>
</p>
<p> </p><p>“Do you know how scared we all were?"</p><p>Yamato inhales sharply as he asks the question and sits up. As he does, he slides his hand closer to Taichi’s, feeling his skin brush against his friend. <em>Still there, </em>he thinks. <em>Still with me. Thankfully. </em>Taichi doesn’t reply, so Yamato takes in another steadying breath and continues.</p><p>“Do you know how scared<em> I</em> was? I thought I’d lost you for good.” His heart is thumping in his chest. He feels viciously out of sorts. “I saw you– no, I <em>felt</em> you disappear. One second you were there, the next…” His voice trails off.  </p><p>“Yamato…”</p><p>Yamato takes a deep breath and starts again. “One second I could feel you there alongside me.” Yamato’s voice is tight, threatening to break if one note falls out of place. “We were running. And I could feel you here–” he gestures to his chest to articulate his point “– with me. And then… when Omegamon grabbed Meiko and I… And you fell… You were gone.” <em>You left me. You made them choose me, and you left me, </em>he thinks, but he doesn’t say that part aloud.</p><p>“Yamato. It’s all okay...” Taichi says, sitting up, the same thin smile from earlier appearing on his face. This smile is nothing like Taichi’s regular smile and it does nothing to ease the lump in Yamato’s throat or soothe the pit in his stomach. </p><p>“No– I felt it. I <em>felt</em> me lose you.” He raises his hand to put it on Taichi’s shoulder, forcing his friend to turn to face him.</p><p>Taichi allows himself to be pulled to face Yamato; both of them are sitting up now, upper torsos angled towards each other. They’re looking, for the first time since Taichi appeared out of nowhere during the battle, directly at each other. Taichi looks tired. His eyes are sunken and shadowed. Yamato focuses on the barely concealed vulnerability that is etched on Taichi’s face. It’s concealed enough that the rest might not notice, but Yamato notices. <em>He looks haunted, </em>Yamato thinks.</p><p>Taichi clenches his jaw, there’s a few seconds of silence, and then, “But you didn’t.”</p><p>Yamato’s hand falls from Taichi’s shoulder and crushes to the ground in a fist. He looks at Tsunomon and Koromon, still curled up together on the ground just above where Taichi and him sit. Yamato had felt it– they all had. There was a moment right as their partners combined to form Omegamon when everything that was Yamato and everything that was Taichi combined to be the sum of one. A point where Yamato could hear and feel Taichi’s heart inside of him, synchronized and barely distinguishable from the other, but both equally there. A point where all of Taichi flooded Yamato, so that thought, emotion, and purpose were interchangeable. So even though Yamato had watched, shielded behind Omegamon’s form, as Taichi failed to outrun the crumbling ground, he had known when he’d lost him, not because he <em>saw</em> Taichi disappear between the cracks, but because he could <em>feel</em> it inside of him.</p><p>And he had been left with this eerie sense of emptiness. An emptiness that had remained even after Omegamon had de-digivolved. Emptied of something he didn’t even know was part of him. An absence that ate at him, guilted him, tortured him– even now, even as Taichi sat next to him.</p><p>“Yamato…” Taichi wraps his fingers around Yamato’s wrist.</p><p>“You have no idea how that felt.” Yamato’s voice sounds broken. “Fuck, I thought you were gone forever.”</p><p>“Hey… hey…” Taichi looks taken aback, eyes wide. He adjusts his position so that he is seated closer to Yamato, legs pressing up against him. Taichi’s hand moving up from where it was wrapped around Yamato’s wrist to his shoulder, moving his hand to stroke Yamato’s upper arm, trying to sooth him. “I’m here, okay. I made it back. Can’t get rid of me that easily.”</p><p>Yamato scoffs. “Idiot.”</p><p>But he reaches out to draw Taichi in closer, arms wrapping tightly around Taichi’s ribcage. He rests his head on Taichi’s shoulder and feels Taichi reciprocate, sliding his arms around him. They sit there for a while, leaning on each other. Yamato feels Taichi relax, ever so slightly, into him. Some of the emptiness leaves Yamato. The knot in his stomach– the one that has been there since he picked up those stupid goggles from the dirt– unraveling, bit by bit.</p><p>“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Yamato says, softly scolding, face pressed into Taichi’s shoulder.</p><p>“So, you’re saying… in the future, I shouldn’t valiantly sacrifice myself to save you?” Taichi quips. Even without being able to see Taichi’s face, Yamato knows he’s smiling; Taichi’s boyish grin returning for a moment as he teases him. It’s reassuring, even if the smile and the feeling are fleeting.</p><p>“Never again.” He says firmly, trying to convey how desperately serious he is. Yamato resists the urge to tease him back: to make a joke about if Taichi tries that again, Yamato will kill Taichi himself. The old him might, even if just to lighten the mood. But<em> this </em>him is still restless, scared even. The joke seems out of place in this new reality. A reality where Taichi almost ceased to exist, but somehow still does.</p><p>Taichi pulls back, looking Yamato in the eye. He nods, looking wistful, and lets him go. Taichi eases himself back onto the ground. Yamato imitates him. Their arms wrap around their Digimon once again, meeting between Tsunomon and Koromon, where their forearms rest against each other.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Yamato asks softly, after a few minutes, not turning his head to look at Taichi.</p><p>There was a long pause. “Not yet, Yamato, okay?” Taichi whispers.</p><p>Yamato nods, grabbing Taichi’s hand and squeezing. He drops his hand once Taichi reciprocates. Then, both look to the sky, both not wanting to leave the quiet yet. <em>Thank god you came back to me, </em>Yamato thinks, willing the tears he can feel building behind his eyes to stay there.<em> Thank fucking god.</em></p><p>And so, they lay there, quiet; for a time. The sound of Taichi breathing and the warmth of his forearm against Yamato’s own providing quiet reassurance that his friend is still there. The sense of emptiness within Yamato is slowly replaced by the fortitude, resolute and calm that usually resides there. It’s peaceful. He likes it. He could stay here forever.</p><p>After a while though, his body betrays him, and Yamato begins to shiver. Taichi looks over at him and nods. He stands up, cradling the sleeping Koromon in his arms. Yamato is remorseful as he gets up from the ground, gently lifting his own partner. Then, together, they walk away from the embankment, from the battle, from their places in the dirt in the quiet, and return to whatever awaits them in their homes.</p><p>As they walk, fleeting touches provide just enough assurance that Taichi is still there. Shoulders bump against each other. Hands brush. These momentary connections echo in Yamato’s core. When they abruptly come to a halt, standing in front of the Yagami apartment building, Taichi turns to hug him. Both of them linger, maybe a touch too long. Then, as Yamato watches Taichi enter the building, the emptiness inside him returns.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think I'm as happy with this chapter as I'm going to get. I'm struggling with a scene in chapter 3, but I'm pretty pleased about chapter 4 (which is complete). So, dear readers, those probably will be out soon. Also, I promise the chapters will get longer, I'm just... scene setting.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Help I'm Alive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Three: Help I’m Alive.</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
</h4>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“They're gonna eat me alive. </em><br/>
<em>Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?</em><br/>
<em>Beating like a hammer.</em><br/>
<em>Help I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer.”</em><br/>
- Help I’m Alive, Metric </strong>
</p>
<p>He’s trapped in a glass cylinder.</p>
<p>Someone is laughing, manically. <em>He who fights monsters… should be careful that he does not become a monster himself, </em>the owner of the laughter taunts.</p>
<p>His fists bang against the pod. Ice crystals flake off each time his fist collides with the surface. Fingers pry at the closed door. He shouts, frantically. A feeling of panic spirals in his gut.</p>
<p>“Open the door!” he cries, beating his fists against the glass.  </p>
<p>The chamber hums. A clock counts down. Red numbers flash in the pod. Through the glass there’s darkness; the soft glow of computer screens illuminates a solitary figure, white shirt caked in a slick red substance. Blood.</p>
<p>He slams his fists harder against the pod. He’s getting colder. The sheet of ice forming on the glass obstructs his view of the hues of black and blue… and red.</p>
<p>A voice crackles over a speaker. <em>You must go, </em>a calm, gentle voice whispers. <em>Go build the future…</em></p>
<p>The countdown is nearing its end. Red numbers flash: 00:05 … 00:04 … 00:03 …</p>
<p>
  <em>Dream big.</em>
</p>
<p>00:02. A fist rises in the air, a lonely salute, before dropping limply out of sight.</p>
<p>Flashing lights, a crash. Static crackles. 00:01.</p>
<p>Someone’s screaming.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Taichi wakes abruptly, shooting up to a sitting position: sweat casing his entire body, hair stuck to his forehead, heart jack hammering out of his chest. Panting. <em>It’s a dream. A dream,</em> he thinks to himself forcefully, breathing deeply. Trying to calm his heartbeat. <em>You’re okay. </em>He looks around his room, trying to center himself: bed, dresser, football, Agumon.</p>
<p>
  <em>Agumon.</em>
</p>
<p>The little dinosaur stands at the edge of his bed. Toothy mouth pulled into a concerned look. Big green eyes wide. “You were crying,” Agumon says slowly, clawed hand reaching for Taichi’s.</p>
<p>“Just a dream, buddy,” Taichi croaks, his voice stuck in his throat. He takes Agumon’s hand and squeezes to provide reassurance.</p>
<p>“A sad dream?” Agumon asks, head tilting to the side, eyes still wide. In this moment, Taichi is painfully aware of how child-like and innocent his partner is in this form.</p>
<p>“Yeah, a sad dream,” Taichi says softly. A small lie. His eyes flutter closed for a few seconds and when he does, he sees Nishjima’s face against his eyelids. Gasping, he opens his eyes and shakes his head to clear the unwanted memory.</p>
<p>Agumon is staring at him, at the sound of Taichi’s gasp, he jumps on the bed and throws his tiny arms around Taichi. Taichi swallows a wince. His entire body feels bruised. “It’ll be okay, Taichi. No need to be sad, we’re together.”</p>
<p>Taichi smiles and buries his face in Agumon’s shoulder. <em>Yeah, we’re together… but… </em>he thinks, desperately trying to keep his thoughts from turning down that dark corner. <em>Not everyone is… </em>His thoughts are barreling down the tracks quickly. <em>Don’t go there!</em> He screams to himself, pulse quickening, hands gripping Agumon tighter. He tries to slam on the metaphorical brakes in his head to keep himself from sliding into…</p>
<p>There’s a beep.</p>
<p>He glances up from Agumon’s shoulder. His phone is flashing. <em>Saved, </em>he thinks, as his thoughts have been interrupted. Mostly. The anxiety pulses in the back of his head, threatening to overtake him, but he has something else to focus on now. Unraveling himself from Agumon’s hug, he lowers the Digimon to his side. Agumon rests his head on Taichi shoulder. Taichi reaches over, ignoring the pain that cascades through his side, and grabs his phone, flipping it open.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Yamato (06:26): <strong>Awake? OK?</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Yamato. Two words. No context. None needed really. Taichi knows:<em> Did yesterday really happen? You’re really back, right? Please respond and assure me I wasn’t dreaming. When you need to talk, I’m here. </em>Used to interpreting the enigmatic thoughts of his friend, he fills in the blanks with the information Yamato’s left out. Taichi wonders how long it took Yamato to settle on the right level of aloofness. He knows though. Yamato-support is just different than regular person support.</p>
<p>It is likely the earliest text he’s ever received from the budding rockstar. Taichi chuckles slightly at that. He wonders if Yamato even slept.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Taichi (06:39): <strong>Awake. I’m alive, sore,  </strong><strong>as Jou said I would be.</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Taichi (06:40):<strong> Why are you awake.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Yamato (06:40):<strong> Can’t sleep.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>As suspected. As they must have gotten back to Taichi’s apartment well after midnight, this means neither of them shut their eyes for very long. Taichi knows he felt more at ease on the embankment in the dirt than he does in this bed.</p>
<p>He presses a few buttons on his phone to toggle to the inbox where there’s a few unread messages. There’s one relatively new one from Koushiro, the others are older. From when he was still in the Digital World, he realizes. He toggles to the newest one first.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Koushiro (Yesterday, 23:45): <strong>I’ve called (on your </strong><strong>behalf) a meeting tomorrow. </strong><strong>My office. 2PM. </strong> <strong>My apologies about the questions.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Taichi smiles, hollowly. Back to business as usual, with a side of apology. Typical Koushiro. Good to know his entire world hasn’t changed. <em>There are some constants in the world, </em>Taichi thinks, doing his best Koushiro impression in his head. Then, he remembers the concern that was knitted across Koushiro’s face. <em>You’ll have to answer their questions sometime</em>. His stomach tightens at the thought. Even the idea of speaking to all of them– his friends, his team– makes his stomach turn.</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, he toggles to the older messages.</p>
<p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Koushiro: <strong>There is no empirical evidence to think you </strong><strong>can read this, Taichi, but if you can, answer. I’ll open a portal.  Wherever you are, there has to be a logical way of getting you back here.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>He swallows, hard. Next.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Yamato: <strong>Fuck. Taichi. Why.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>A fair question. He takes a steadying breath as he feels guilt wash over him. Next message.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Sora: <strong>Taichi… where are you? I’m not sure if you </strong><strong>will ever be able to read this, but if you can… if  </strong><strong>you do… please come back. Yamato’s holding us </strong><strong>together, but we need you. I need you. He needs you.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Taichi’s stomach constricts again. More guilt. Another hard swallow. His arm tightens around Agumon and he feels the Digimon instantly nuzzle into his side. Reassurance personified. He continues reading:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><strong>He’s pretending to be strong, but I know he didn’t </strong> <strong>want to leave the Digital World. I think he would have </strong> <strong>dug in the dirt for hours if it wasn’t for his sense of </strong> <strong>duty towards us, towards you. This is going to haunt </strong> <strong>him… well, all of us. Taichi, you can’t be gone…</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>“Yamato was sad when you left,” Agumon says softly from his side. Taichi looks down at the tiny dinosaur, his partner, best friend. “He cried too.”</p>
<p>“Yamato did?”</p>
<p>“He wouldn’t like me telling you that,” Agumon says, looking sheepish. Well, as sheepish as one can look with a mouthful of pointy teeth. “But we saw. Gabumon tried to comfort him, but I’m not sure it worked.”</p>
<p>Taichi nods, not knowing exactly what to make of that. The guilt is overwhelming now, and he leans back on the bed, pulling the sheet up to his chin. Trying to put up a barrier between him and the guilt and anxiety, but its already seeped inside of him. Squatting in the corners of his mind. Agumon snuggles up beside him. Another deep breath. Next message.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Hikari: <strong>Taichi, you idiot. Please come back. Where </strong><strong>are you? I did something…  I need you, brother.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>The guilt slaps him in the face. <em>‘I will probably never forgive you,’</em> he repeats her words to himself. There’s been no sign of her at the apartment. No shoes at the door. He listened outside her door for her breathing when he got in last night. Nothing. Like she disappeared instead of him. <em>Probably stayed with Takeru, </em>he thinks, and three feelings flood him. First, more guilt: he knows deep inside that her words are true– she won’t forgive him. Hikari is good and believes in the light and goodness of others, and what he did was dark and decisive and so final. Second, annoyance: his brotherly senses kick in and he’s mildly irritated she’s staying at Takeru’s– where is she sleeping? His little sister, so innocent… staying at a boy’s place. If feels like yesterday she was eight years old, calling for him to save her from Vandemon; clinging to him as he puts himself between her and Piemon. What happened to that girl– what happened to that boy? His stomach twists. Third, nausea: his fist clenches and comes in front of his mouth, a slight hiccup and he throws himself off the bed, dislodging Agumon from his side and barrels towards the bathroom, phone still in hand. He throws the door open, tries to ease it shut (doesn’t really succeed), crumbles to the ground in front of the toilet and promptly throws up.</p>
<p>He’s not sure if that’s the brotherly senses or the anxiety speaking. </p>
<p>Probably the latter. He gets the Takeru thing.</p>
<p>There’s another beep. He opens his phone, still leaning over the toilet.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Yamato (07:01): <strong>Breakfast? I’ll cook.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p><em>Irony. Excellent, except when it’s happening to you.</em> <em>When was the last time I ate?</em> He can’t remember. Quick look in the toilet– all bile. <em>Regardless, food sounds awful right now</em>. That must be the first time he’s ever thought that.</p>
<p>Agumon’s claw taps on the door. “Taichi? Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Agumon,” Taichi lies. “Go back to my room, still some good sleeping hours left.” A pause, but he hears the pitter-patter of dinosaur feet heading back towards his room.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Taichi (07:03):<strong> No. Thanks. I should stay here.</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Yamato (07:03): <strong>I’ll come to you.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Instant response. Instant guilt. The message is Yamato-speak for “I want to help. I care. Let me in.” Taichi knows this. He just… can’t. Not yet. The tortured look upon Yamato’s face last night flickers through his mind. He throws up again. A couple times. <em>There’s not even anything in me to throw up,</em> he complains to himself. His throat is raw.                     </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Taichi (07:14):<strong> I’ll see you at Koushiro’s later.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>No response. Taichi figured there wouldn’t be. Silence is Yamato-speak for fuck you. In this case it might be Yamato-speak for “if you’re going to be like that, then fine”, but it amounts to the same thing. Yamato will gather himself and he’ll try again. He’s annoying like that. They both are. When Yamato is a drama queen, Taichi gives him space. Yamato chills out. Then Taichi tries again. But Taichi has practice with dealing with Yamato-drama; he’s a frequent flier of the Yamato-drama-ride and has had to get good at it, lest his friendship with the blonde Knife-of-Angst bassist get too out of hand. He isn’t sure Yamato has the same practice with Taichi dramatics.</p>
<p>Seemingly out of anything to throw up– however he’s always been an overachiever when it comes to gross shit– Taichi presses up from the ground. He splashes water on his face. Then, for the first time since returning from the Digital World, he looks at himself in the mirror.</p>
<p>He does not like the anxiety-ridden creature that looks back at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to everyone who has read this so far! Love the kudos, appreciate comments even more. :)  This took way too long to format and I think I might come back and play with the text messaging format as it doesn't quite have the effect I want... however there's limited ability with AO3's html... </p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Hello Time Bomb</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Four: Hello Time Bomb</strong>
</h4>
<h4>
  <strong> <em>Yamato</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong><em>“Hello time bomb, I’m ready to go off</em><br/>
<em>If life is for the livid,</em><br/>
<em>Check me tomorrow.”</em><br/>
-Hello Time Bomb, Matthew Good Band </strong>
</p>
<h6></h6>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Taichi (07:08):<strong> I’ll see you at Koushiro’s later.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p>Yamato sits on the side of his bed and stares at his phone. That was not the response he was looking for. <em>Does he not fucking realize I just want to help? </em>Yamato thinks, lips drawn into a thin line, anger furrowing his brow. He clenches his fist around the phone. <em>Goddamnit, Taichi. </em>His friend has been back for less than twenty-four hours and he’s already pissing Yamato off.</p><p>“Are they coming for breakfast?” an ever-soft voice protrudes into the dizzy irritation that is now clouding Yamato’s mind. He looks over to see Gabumon staring at him, sat on the other side of his bed.</p><p>“No,” Yamato responds. “They’re not.”</p><p>“You are disappointed,” Gabumon states, simply.</p><p><em>Disappointed. Pissed off. Annoyed. Exasperated. Wound up. Pick your verb, </em>Yamato thinks, but only responds with: “I guess so.”</p><p>“And worried,” Gabumon adds, with conviction. Yamato sighs.</p><p>“Maybe a bit.”</p><p>The two of them fall into silence. Yamato’s fist is still clenched around his phone, slowly beating it into his thigh. He doesn’t know what to do now. Last night, he had drug himself into the apartment, after ensuring Taichi got safely into his, pulled together some semblance of a meal for him and Tunomon, showered, and collapsed on his bed by 3AM. And then hadn’t slept a bit. Just listened to his Digimon snore, thinking terrible thoughts and remembering horrible things, and waiting until it was roughly an appropriate time to text Taichi. He’d spent maybe half an hour staring at the words on his phone before settling on “Awake? OK?”. A flimsy, poor excuse for a message, but it was all he could muster.</p><p>Yamato shivers. He’s exhausted, but sleep hasn’t come easy the last few nights. Every time he closes his eyes, he can see the green light splitting the ground. Feel the earth shifting beneath his feet. Feel hands shoving him as the ground cracks. Feel the sense of panic as the dust rises. And then nausea filling him as Taichi falls. That part he sees and feels; it plays on repeat in his head. Sometimes the dream sequence mixes in the part where Yamato grabs his friend by the shirt collar and screams at him; the last thing he did before Taichi sacrifices himself, saving Yamato in the process. It’s a horrible da capo that leaves his chest tight and head pounding.</p><p><em>If I wouldn’t have ran after her. Or if I would have run faster. </em>Over the past few days he’s thought– more times than he cares to admit– that it would have been better if he would have just let Meiko saunter off to her death. She could have fallen into the ground. <em>Better her than Taichi. </em>He thinks it, but he feels like an asshole for doing so. And he’s not sure he means it. At least not completely.</p><p>“Maybe Agumon just wanted some time with him,” Gabumon posits, his voice pulls Yamato out of his dark thoughts. “He missed him too.”</p><p><em>That could be true, </em>Yamato muses. He remembers Agumon’s insistence that he needed to be strong for when Taichi got back. <em>Turns out the little food-obsessed weirdo was right. Agumon may just want time, but then why didn’t Taichi just say that. Their Digimon are close too. They all could have just recharged at the same time.  </em></p><p>“We’ll see him at Koushiro’s later,” Yamato surmises. “Do you want breakfast?”</p><p>“Oh, yes. Please, Yamato.” Gabumon presses his paws together and Yamato smiles. He gets up from the bed, throws on some sweatpants, and opens the door, heading to the kitchen. Something to turn his mind to, seeing as Gabumon’s theory doesn’t do much to quell the uneasy voice inside of him that whispers: <em>something is terribly wrong</em>.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It’s 2:10 PM and Yamato is standing inside Koushiro’s office. Everyone is here. Everyone that is, except Taichi. Yamato was here early. He loitered by the entrance to the building, long enough for every single one the others to pass him on the way in. Sora had actually come back down to get him, dragging him into the elevator.</p><p>“He’ll be here,” she’d said softly. He’d muttered something intelligible in return, fingers tapping against his arm. Worry making his pulse race. He continues this nervous movement while leaning against the office wall. Ignoring everyone. There was a steady hum in the room as everyone else talks to each other. Every once in a while, he catches the word ‘Taichi’ in the conversations. People are side eyeing him too.</p><p>Yamato just stares at Hikari. <em>Why is she here and he’s not? They would have come together. You’d think she’d want to see him almost as badly as I do. </em>Hikari is actually the only one he hasn’t heard say the word ‘Taichi’ since everyone arrived.</p><p>“Did he get home last night?” Koushiro has appeared at his side.</p><p>“Yeah,” Yamato mutters, fingers tapping. “I made sure of it.”</p><p>“How… How was he?” Koushiro bites at his bottom lip.</p><p>“Rough.”</p><p>Koushiro nods, solemnly. “Yamato, I didn’t mean—”</p><p>“I know,” Yamato interrupts. Koushiro means the questions. “He didn’t talk to me either.”</p><p>“I had hoped he would,” Koushiro muses, softly, for only Yamato to hear. “I think it is crucial we know exactly what happened to him. There is so much we don’t know about the Digital World, not to mention the other dimensions– the way time works, for example. It was only a few days for us, but—” Koushiro turns to look Yamato directly in the eye. Koushiro doesn’t look like he’s slept much either, “—how long was it for him? And was he even in the Digital World? Or did he slip into another dimension? They do exist, you know.”</p><p>Yamato nods, taking this all in. He hadn’t… thought about that. The few days Taichi was separated from him felt like an eternity to Yamato. <em>Was it even longer for Taichi? </em>He feels his throat dry up as he tries to imagine where Taichi went, what happened, and how long he was stuck there. His fingers continue to tap anxiously against his arm. The clock strikes 2:20 PM.</p><p>“And how did he get himself back?” Yamato blinks and looks back at Koushiro. He’s still speaking. “Did he come back the same way Daisuke and the others did? I haven’t spoken to them yet, I just wonder...”</p><p>“All good questions,” Yamato mutters. He feels ill. <em>Where the fuck is he? </em>The clock hands move again, and Yamato feels his fingers pick up speed with every minute that stretches on. He notices Koushiro is also tapping his foot on the ground, a nervous tick not usually took up by his composed friend.</p><p>The sound of wings cutting through air interrupts the tension, ever so slightly. Tentomon is hovering at Koushiro’s shoulder. “I have buzzed Taichi and Agumon into the building.”</p><p>Both Yamato and Koushiro audibly exhale and their eyes gravitate to the door. <em>Any second now, he’ll come through the door and then I’ll know, for sure, again, that he’s alive and okay and here. With me. </em>Yamato thinks, his eyes pouring through the office door. <em>Any second.</em></p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In reality, it’s a good ten minutes before the door retracts and Taichi and Agumon step through. Thirteen pairs of eyes, human and Digimon, turn to look up at the newcomers. Yamato feels a small wave of relief wash over him as his eyes settle on Taichi. <em>He’s here, he’s alive, he’s with me, </em>Yamato thinks, breathing a sigh of relief.</p><p>“Sorry we’re late,” Taichi announces to the room as he enters, offering no explanation. He moves to stand behind the one empty chair at the end closest to the door, his hands come to grip the back. His eyes seem unfocused, bloodshot and swollen; the confidence that his gaze usually holds has vanished. Taichi stares at the empty chair, not making effort to meet anyone’s eyes, despite standing at the head of the common space, as if he was to address or perform for the group. Agumon’s claw clings to the edge of Taichi’s shorts, like a lost child clinging to defeated parent. The Digimon looks out of breath.</p><p>Silence has an eerie hold on the room. No one sure what to say, no one courageous enough to say anything first. It’s agonizing. For a while, the only sound in the room is the buzzing of Tentomon’s wings and even he settles on the ground, uncomfortable with his own natural sound. Yamato feels like there’s cement in his shoes, keeping him anchored to this spot even though all of his instincts are telling him to go to Taichi, wrap him in his arms and hold on.</p><p>Finally, there’s a sound: a chair squeaks and in a few seconds, Mimi is across the room. She flings her arms around Taichi’s neck, the gesture jostling the goggles that are hanging there. “I’m so glad to see you!” she exclaims, in her annoyingly cheerful way, kissing his cheek. Taichi returns the hug with one arm and a small smile, but Yamato notices him stiffen under her embrace.</p><p>Regardless, Mimi’s exclamation seems to lighten the room considerably. A hum returns. Gabumon leaves Yamato’s side to go over to Agumon and embrace the dinosaur-Digimon. They seem to be whispering.</p><p>Piyomon wanders over to Taichi holding a tray of sweets in her wings. “Donut, Taichi?” the pink bird asks, staring up at him. Taichi’s grip tightens on the chair. Yamato watches as Taichi closes his eyes, as if to steady himself. There’s a long pause as Piyomon continues to hold the tray out to Taichi, awaiting his response.</p><p>“Ah,” Taichi stutters. The voice that comes out is so unlike Taichi’s real voice, it makes Yamato’s stomach constrict. “No, thanks, Piyomon. I’m not hungry.”</p><p>Yamato arches an eyebrow. <em>Not hungry? Maybe there is a first time for everything. </em>His thoughts turn his concern into a small joke, but the sense of unease is monstrous inside of him. He watches as Agumon takes three donuts off the tray and tries to make Taichi take one. Taichi shakes his head at his partner. He looks pained and Agumon looks concerned for few seconds, before shoving all three donuts in his own mouth. A moment later, Taichi catches Yamato’s eye and offers him a small, awkward, shrug. Yamato starts to pull himself off the wall he’s been leaning against to go to Taichi, but before he can complete the movement, Sora and Jou have appeared at Taichi’s side. Sora offers him a glass of water, which Taichi accepts with a forced smile.</p><p>From Yamato’s current position, Jou and Sora’s comments are indistinguishable. He can imagine what they are saying: some mothering version of welcome back, did you sleep, are you eating, how do you feel. Yamato peels himself from his position near Koushiro and the wall and walks over to where the three of them are. He hovers back slightly, just in earshot of Sora’s latest comment.</p><p>“We were so terrified,” Sora tells him, softly, her hand placed delicately on Taichi’s upper arm.</p><p>Jou nods in agreement. “Glad you’re back, Taichi. I know we did a preliminary assessment last night, but I’d feel more comfortable if you got checked out by a proper doctor.” Sora nods, but Taichi shakes his head, dismissing Jou’s comment.</p><p>“Jou’s probably right,” Yamato adds, as he joins the conversation. Taichi’s head whips up. He looks betrayed.</p><p>“I don’t care about your comfort,” Taichi retorts, his voice steel. Jou’s hands come up in a defensive gesture. A pained look crosses Sora’s face. Yamato feels like he’s been punched in the gut.</p><p>“Do you care to tell us what happened?” a small voice intrudes. Hikari is looking at Taichi for the first time since he entered the room; speaking to someone other than Takeru for the first time since she arrived. All four of the older Chosen turn to look at her. Her voice grows a bit stronger: “I guess I am just wondering what happened to you; to make my courageous idiot brother disappear and return <em>this person</em>, who so easily destroyed our friend.”</p><p>“Hikari!” Takeru exclaims, grabbing her hand. He whispers something intelligible.</p><p>“No, Takeru,” Hikari’s tone uncharacteristically cold. She shakes him off. “Well, Taichi?”</p><p>Taichi stiffens. Sora’s drawn one hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp, the other landing on Taichi’s shoulder, an attempt at comfort. Taichi quickly shrugs her off. Yamato also reaches for his arm, trying to wrap his fingers around Taichi’s forearm to hold him in place, but before he can, Taichi slips around the chair. His slight movement towards his sister is vaguely threatening, but he pulls up short, fist clenching around the glass of water he still holds.</p><p>“Well, Taichi?” Hikari repeats. She looks directly at Taichi. Everyone else is quiet, the eerie hold on the room returned, except this time even Mimi isn’t daring enough to break it.</p><p>There is a long pause. Taichi’s eyes seem to bore into his sibling as he meets her gaze.</p><p>“Easily?” he echoes, softly. “<em>Easily?” </em>A bit louder. The hand holding the glass of water raises slightly and then in a fluid, athletic movement, he winds up and throws the glass against the wall of Koushiro’s office. It smashes into the wall. Yamato looks at Koushiro who has ducked, the glass shattering about a meter from where they both stood only minutes ago. Everyone flinches.</p><p>“<em>Easily?!” </em>Taichi’s essentially shouting now.</p><p>“Taichi…” Yamato steps forward, trying to grab Taichi’s arm. Taichi waves him off. At the same time Agumon reaches for the fabric of Taichi’s shorts. Reflexively, Taichi jerks his leg and the Digimon falls backwards; Gabumon catches him as he stumbles.</p><p>“Would that be better for you? If I said I swiftly and <em>easily</em> came to these decisions? Oh, Taichi, bearer of courage, make these decisions so <em>I don’t fucking have to</em>,” Taichi mimics, his venom no longer just pointed at his sister, just at the room in general. “And I do, on behalf of all of you. I take on that burden, so you all can live with yourselves.”</p><p>“Tai—” Yamato steps forward again, but there’s flurry of movement and a crack. He stumbles backwards, Taichi’s fist having collided with his jaw. He retains his footing, barely. Jou catches him. Sora gasps. His hand instantly comes to his jaw, but he waves off Jou.</p><p>“God forbid you all wear the consequences,” Taichi spits, then he tears the goggles off of his neck, throws them down on the table, pushes past Yamato and Jou, and storms out of the room.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A hush falls over the room as the door slides shut behind Taichi. Everyone stares at each other. Takeru reaches for Hikari’s hand again, but she snatches her it away. For a time, nobody speaks. The sound of Agumon exiting through the door breaks the hush.</p><p>“Yamato. Let me–” Jou breaks the silence, reaching for Yamato’s arm, trying to take a look at his jaw, bruising colours already starting to appear. Yamato waves him away.</p><p>“What. The. Fuck,” Yamato hisses, turning himself to face Hikari. “What the fuck was that?”</p><p>“Hikari, that was… unwise,” Koushiro’s voice drifts in from the wall, speaking for the first time from where he’s still stationed near the wall.</p><p>“Unwise? That’s one word for it.” The words drip from Yamato’s mouth. Anger unsheathed. The unease and worry he’s been keeping bottled up cracks, and he channels it into fury, targeting the younger Chosen. “He came back from the fucking dead, Hikari!”</p><p>“He did not die, Yamato,” Hikari’s tone is surprisingly dismissive and it only infuriates him further. The fact that she won’t meet his eye provides additional fuel for his anger.</p><p>“He did. But even fucking so, he’s your brother! You. <em>You,</em>” he spits each word. “Girl who gets captured by Vamdemon, calls for her brother; threatened by the Dark Masters, cries for her brother; pulled into the Dark Ocean– where are you brother, <em>rescue me</em>, how dare you fucking abandon me… Not to mention what just happened when he did leave us! He’s rescued <em>you</em>, dozens of times. And the one time he needs <em>you.</em>”</p><p>His brother is standing. “Yamato, please… Stop,” Takeru pleads, as he takes a step to put himself between Hikari and Yamato, hands up placatingly.</p><p>Yamato bends around Takeru so that Hikari is forced to look at him. “You should be ashamed,” he snarls. Then he turns on his heel and moves towards the door. “Come on, Gabumon.”</p><p>He leaves. Nobody tries to stop him. Even if they did, he wouldn’t see or hear them. The door whizzing shut behind him. He jams his finger hard into the elevator’s down button to call for it. His heart is pounding, his jaw is throbbing, and his anger is so loud in his head it’s hard to hear or think straight. He just knows that this time he has to go after Taichi– this time he’s not leaving him; screw the others. His thoughts are loud, angry and vicious: <em>How could she say those things? How could she think those things? Twenty-four hours ago, he was dead, never coming back, separated from him– from her, from Agumon, from all of them– and this is how she welcomes him back? He was dead! Fucking Yagamis. </em>He feels ill, nauseous from the swirling emotions.</p><p>Consequently, it’s not until Gabumon pulls on his shirt a few times, stretching the forest green fabric, that he realizes that he’s speaking. Pushing the cloud of anger away, he tries to concentrate on what Gabumon is saying, but can only decipher that Gabumon is talking to him and that he is pointing at the staircase adjacent to the elevator.</p><p>“The stairs?”</p><p>Gabumon nods. “Agumon said they have been taking stairs.”</p><p>Yamato is a bit confused, but he nods and move towards the stairs. He opens the door, then, seeing the flights that are before them, bends down so Gabumon can get on his back, wrap his arms around his neck, for a piggy-back. “You’re sure?” He feels Gabumon nod into his neck. With that, Yamato links his arms behind his back to help balance Gabumon and begins to descend down the stairwell.</p><p>Four flights later, he can hear Agumon. “Taichi. Taichi. Talk to me…”</p><p>Yamato pauses when he gets to the top of the section of stairs where Taichi is sitting, head resting on his knees, arms drawn around his head. Agumon is tapping his shoulder, pressing his body into Taichi’s side and repeating his name. Yamato puts Gabumon down.</p><p>“Taichi?” Yamato sits down on the stair next to him. Close enough to feel heat radiating off Taichi’s body; not close enough to touch him. Agumon looks up Yamato gratefully and moves down a step, still pressing himself against Taichi’s legs. “Tai. Hey, I’m here.”</p><p>A long pause. Yamato can hear Taichi’s labored breathing. Finally, an arm lifts enough for Yamato to see one brown eye peering at him. “Oh fuck, Yamato, your face.” A giant sigh. “Fuck, I hit you.”</p><p>“You’ve hit me loads of times.”</p><p>“Other times you’ve deserved it.”</p><p>Yamato lips curve into a half-smile. <em>Fuck.</em> That hurts apparently. “Yeah. Guess you owe me a freebie.”</p><p>A snort. “Unlikely.”</p><p>Taichi unravels himself, sitting up. He leans slightly into Yamato; one hand coming up to scratch Agumon’s head in an apology. Yamato slides closer to him, moves his arm backwards resting it behind Taichi so he can lean further into Yamato’s side. He resists putting his arm around Taichi’s shoulder. They sit there, Taichi leaning into Yamato, closing his eyes and attempting to even out his breathing.</p><p>“Taichi. Why are we in the staircase?” Yamato asks, after a few minutes of silence. </p><p>“Enclosed spaces,” Taichi mutters into Yamato’s shirt. “Can’t… right now.”</p><p>Yamato’s mouth opens to reply, but no words come out. He doesn’t know what to say to that admission. <em>What does that mean? Why not? </em>he thinks, but he feels reluctant to pose his questions aloud. Taichi’s face tucks further into Yamato’s side and he shudders. Yamato raises his arm to wrap it around his friend, drawing him in a bit closer. Yamato struggles to retain his own even breathing, wanting to remain strong, but feeling the sense of unease and dread that’s filled him for days grab hold of his internal organs and twists. For what must be the thousandth time that day, he thinks, <em>I feel ill. </em>He closes his eyes to try to breathe away the queasiness.</p><p>Gabumon’s paw on his shoulder draws his attention back into the stairwell. He looks at Agumon, whose eyes are wide with concern, nuzzling into Taichi’s leg, and then at Taichi whose face is still half buried in his side. Yamato opens his mouth again to say something, but words still won’t come. <em>I need to say something, </em>Yamato thinks, sternly to himself, wracking his brain for the right words.</p><p>Then, out of nowhere, a small growl echoes in the stairwell. Yamato looks up. He catches Agumon’s eye, who looks embarassed. Yamato chuckles, realizing the small dinosaur’s stomach is the culprit. He feels Taichi smile into his shirt. Gabumon’s soft laugh comes from behind him.</p><p>“Sorry…” Agumon blushes, putting his arms around his stomach.</p><p>Yamato eases Taichi from his side. “Get up,” Yamato stands and offers his hand to Taichi. “We’re going to my place. I’m cooking. No excuses this time.” Taichi pauses but accepts the hand up. They swing Agumon and Gabumon up on their backs and start down the stairs. <em>Progress. Of sorts, </em>he thinks, watching his friend closely as they descend.</p><p><em>He’s here, he’s alive, he’s with me, </em>Yamato chants to himself, on repeat, swallowing the unease that has bubbled up.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah, here we are: Chapter 4. The plot picked up here (I swear I do have somewhere I'm going with this). Also introducing some other Digidestined into the list of those allowed to have dialogue! Also the Mathew Good song referenced is excellent, so you should check that out. I have to admit finding songs titles for Taichi chapters is easier as I imagine his music sense to be very random, with some songs chosen only as they'd annoy Yamato. Yamato seems way more selective (obviously). If anyone has songs they like for the two of them together, let me know; happy for suggestions! </p><p>Anyway...  hope you enjoyed! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Restless Heart and Obsidian Skies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Five: A Restless Heart and Obsidian Skies</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Be still my restless heart </em>
    <br/>
    <em>Obsidian’s the sky</em>
    <br/>
    <em>Inward you look as you halt</em>
    <br/>
    <em>Be still restless heart.”</em>
    <br/>
    <em>– A Restless Heart and Obsidian Skies, Avantasia</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Taichi, somewhat reluctantly, follows Yamato back to his apartment. Yamato hasn’t said a word to him the entire walk from Koushiro’s office, choosing to speak to Gabumon and Agumon instead. Agumon delighting in the fact that Yamato is going to cook. Taichi’s still not sure he can stomach food, but at least someone is excited. They drone on about potential menus and Taichi finds himself lagging behind, caught up in his own thoughts.</p><p><em>‘What happened to you; to make my courageous idiot brother disappear and return this person, who so easily destroyed our friend.’ </em>Taichi repeats his sister’s words in his head, a gut-wrenching mantra that makes him want to curl up in a ball. Or hurl himself off a bridge. Or both. He’s managed to get himself relatively under control now, since Yamato found him in the stairwell, but the anxiety still pulses in the back of his head, threatening to spill overboard at any second. Every few minutes he finds himself clenching his teeth and having to force himself to take a few deep breaths.</p><p>He really lost it back there. He pauses momentarily, increasing the gap between him and Yamato, and looks up in reflection. For the first time in what seems like weeks, there’s no distortions flickering through the sky and he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. He doesn’t know if he has it in him to make more decisions. Or fight more battles. <em>Plus… you yelled at your sister and your friends, broke something, and threw down your goggles, so that probably doesn’t make you leadership material anymore… You fucking idiot; get a grip, </em>he chastises himself. He squeezes his eyes tightly closed and takes another deep breath. His fist clenches reflexively by his side.</p><p>“Come on,” Yamato calls, and Taichi’s head snaps up, realizing how far he has lagged behind them.</p><p>He jogs to where Yamato is holding the front door to his apartment building open. His eyes flicker to the elevator and a jolt of anxiety runs up his chest cavity, but Yamato doesn’t even pause before veering to the left for the stairwell. He begins to climb and Taichi follows, still thinking about the elevator, something in the back of his mind providing him with unwelcome images: <em>hands pressed against a cold cylindric tubs… Red lights flashing. Steady pulsing of an emergency beep. More red lights. More red. Blood– </em>Taichi stumbles with a gasp, foot knocking against a missed step. Agumon’s claws dig into his shoulder blades at the sudden lurch forward. Yamato turns to look at him from a few steps above, Gabumon clinging to his shoulders.</p><p>“Clumsy,” Taichi mutters, even though he knows Yamato’s not buying it. Yamato’s eyes narrow suspiciously, but his mouth stays closed.</p><p>When they get to Yamato’s floor, Yamato fishes his keys out of his pocket. He opens the door to the apartment he shares with his father, telling Taichi, “Agumon wants some sort of curry. I’m interpreting that as rice and vegetables. Something simple. You good with that?”</p><p>He takes off his shoes and Taichi copies him. The two Digimon shuffle in behind Yamato, politely wiping their feet.</p><p>Taichi nods, even though he still doesn’t feel hungry. Yamato is already halfway to the kitchen anyway. Purely guided by muscle memory, Taichi shoves his shoes to the side with his foot, walks up a step, moves a meter to his right and flops, burying his head in the one lumpy pillow that graces the couch he’s now sprawled across. He resists the urge to scream.</p><p>“Make yourself comfortable,” Yamato deadpans. He’s come back into the room and Taichi lifts his head, slightly to look at him. Yamato leans against the wall, tucking one socked foot behind the other; effortlessly cool even with a bag of frozen vegetables pressed up against his jaw. Cobalt blue eyes zero in on Taichi, “Going to tell me what happened back there?”</p><p>Taichi groans into the pillow and raises a hand to give Yamato the finger. Yamato chuckles. When Taichi doesn’t reply, he hears Yamato glide back into the kitchen and the sounds of him working in the kitchen emerge: Yamato rummaging around in drawers, then the sound of chopping. Taichi just lies there. While he’s used to Yamato cooking for the two of them, Taichi usually perches himself atop the kitchen counter so he can make helpful-sarcastic comments and stealing bits of food as the blond goes about his kitchen routine; him all grins and expressive gestures, Yamato all scowls and rolling eyes. Today, Taichi doesn’t have the strength.</p><p>Instead, Taichi lies on the couch face down, closing his eyes and using the sounds of Yamato moving around in the kitchen to ground himself and quiet the noise in his head. Yamato chopping vegetables. Agumon laughing. Clattering of bowls. Beep of the rice cooker. The splatter of water hitting the sink. Three voices, just out of earshot, murmuring to each other. <em>Familiar, normal, amazing sounds, </em>he thinks as he listens.</p><p>Half an hour later, Yamato appears back in the living area, two bowls in hand; other portions already handed off to the Digimon who have disappeared, presumably asked to leave Yamato and Taichi alone for a bit. Taichi drags his face off the pillow and organizes himself on the couch, so he’s only talking up one side. Yamato lets himself fall, gracefully, onto the middle cushion, and holds out a bowl to Taichi. His leg, encased in bafflingly skinny jeans that are ripped at the knee, brushes against Taichi’s, and when Yamato digs into the food, their knees stay touching.</p><p>“Thanks,” Taichi mumbles, staring into his bowl. He picks up the chopsticks and starts moving the rice around, only shoving some of it into his mouth when he feels Yamato staring at him and even then, it is only a few morsels before his stomach starts to seize up. He puts the bowl down on the table, and buries his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees, right knee bouncing up in down, fidgeting.</p><p>He feels Yamato shift next to him, curling his legs up so he’s sitting cross-legged on the couch. He sits facing Taichi, knees pressed against Taichi’s right side, movements calculated as if Yamato’s trying to not break physical contact. A hand comes up and skims through Taichi’s hair, it rests momentarily at the base of his neck before falling into Yamato’s lap. “Don’t cut me out,” Yamato murmurs, “Tell me what’s going on.”</p><p>Taichi rakes his hands over his face, burying his face deeper in his palms. He wants to tell him. He really does. <em>But how do you put it into words? “Hey man, remember when you asked me why Omegamon broke up and I never answered? Well, I had a shitload of doubts, misplaced my courage and was paralyzed by fear. I’m constantly playing hero, but I’m not one: I obliterated city blocks; failed to realize four of our friends were missing; got my teacher killed; and destroyed our friend’s Digimon partner. I made those decisions. Now my sister hates me, probably most of our friends too, and I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again.” </em>He thinks this, but he doesn’t say any of that. Instead he just sighs into his hands, and lets out a long, emphatic, “Fuck.”</p><p>“Taichi, come on,” Yamato urges, “You don’t need to put everything on your shoulders. You didn’t get your Crest of Courage for trying to be a superhero and do everything yourself; in fact, I think your Crest <em>rejected</em> you for doing exactly that.”</p><p>Taichi growls. As if he didn’t enough shit to sort through, Yamato has to draw attention to that particular painful memory; that nightmare of bones and cavities. He adjusts on the couch, trying to pull himself away from Yamato. His nails dig slightly into his forehead as his right-hand twitches. Sourly, he takes aim for Yamato’s sore-point, muttering into his hands: “At least I didn’t get possessed by a cherry tree and try to fight my—” Yamato stiffens next to him and he cuts himself off. He bites down on his lip hard: <em>Is that even a fair dig anymore? </em>the spiteful voice inside of him asks. <em>You actively, fully consciously, used your Crest to destroy a friend; certainly, that’s worse? </em></p><p>Taichi is sure that annoyance is flickering across Yamato’s face at the dig, but Yamato swallows it and continues, “You have <em>friends</em> to help you with whatever you’re going through; don’t cut me off from you.”</p><p>The pulse of anxiety in the back of his head makes itself known, gathering kindle for a fire and sending a flicker of panic down his body. Taichi takes a deep breath, exhaling into his hands. It takes a few minutes to pull together a few strands of courage to say words again, but he does. “She’s right, you know,” Taichi mumbles, still speaking into his hands. “What type of person – what type of leader – what type of <em>friend</em>, makes that decision?”</p><p>“She’s not right,” Yamato voice is icy. Yamato slides his hand up his own thigh so it rests on his knee, fingers close enough that Taichi can feel them graze his side. Even if the touch is accidental, Taichi’s thankful for it as it makes him feel mildly more grounded; Yamato’s touch always does.</p><p>“Isn’t she?” Taichi snaps.</p><p>“No, she’s not. And you didn’t make that decision alone, Taichi!” Yamato’s voice retains the icy edge, but there’s a hint of pleading in it.</p><p>Taichi scoffs.</p><p>“No. Listen to me,” Yamato’s hand reaches out to grab the collar of Taichi’s shirt, yanking his face out of his hands and forcing Taichi to look at him. When their eyes meet, Taichi sees the desperation. “I was right there with you. Omegamon takes both of us. You didn’t destroy Meicoomon, <em>we</em> did. We made that decision.”</p><p>Taichi barks out a bitter laugh. He raises his hand to swipe at Yamato’s clenched fist, trying to pull his shirt out of Yamato’s hands. “The irony of you saying that with your hand at my collar.”</p><p>“Taichi—”</p><p>“Or is just me that remembers you screaming at me when I made that decision in the first place?”</p><p>Yamato freezes. Taichi knows his tone and gaze are harsh, undercut with hostility; anger, frustration and pain bubbling over. Yamato looks like he’s been slapped in the face. His grip instantly releases, hand falling to the couch.</p><p>“You made it pretty fucking clear where you stood,” Taichi continues.</p><p>“That’s not fa—”</p><p>“Meeicoomon is <em>one of us</em>; we can’t put everything on her– remember saying that?”</p><p>“Yes! But the circumstance changed—”</p><p>“Hope doesn’t include sacrificing our friends– isn’t that what you said?”</p><p>“Taichi—”</p><p>“Right before you stupidly ran out there. And I had to choose which one of us got the fucking pleasure of falling through the ground.”</p><p>“I didn’t ask for—”</p><p>“That’s the fucking point!” Taichi yells, heart racing. His brain is fogged up with the emotions bubbling to the surface. He’s long gotten up from the couch– he isn’t exactly sure when that happened– and he’s yelling. “You didn’t have to ask. I made <em>that</em> decision too. Without you!”</p><p>“I didn’t want that!” Yamato stands up, fists clenched. He raises his voice to match Taichi’s. They’re facing off across the table, shouting over one another. At some point, Taichi’s knocked his bowl to the ground, rice spilling over the floor. “I didn’t ask you to save me, Taichi. You think I wanted that? You think I wanted to stand there– <em>useless</em>—”</p><p>“So, you can’t stand there and claim <em>we</em> make decisions—"</p><p>“— while your self-sacrificing ass ran for your life? That—”</p><p>“— together because apparently I don’t need you to control Omegamon!—”</p><p>“— was the worst moment of my fucking life—”</p><p>“— So, all those decisions are on me and only me—"</p><p>“— you bastard, you just <em>left</em> me!”</p><p>“You leave me all the time!” Taichi roars, frustration lacing his voice. Yamato freezes again, opening his mouth to spit something back, but then closes it; blue eyes frosting over as they narrow in frustration and anger. There’s a pause while both of them glare at each other, only broken when Yamato launches himself over the table, tackling Taichi to the ground.</p><p>“You idiot,” Yamato grunts, as they crash to the floor. Yamato lands on top, fists once again clasping at Taichi’s collar. Taichi’s fist connects with his shoulder, the other grabs a fistful of Yamato’s shirt. Yamato yanks Taichi’s chest up by his shirt collar and then slams him back into the ground. Taichi bucks beneath him, managing to dislodge Yamato enough to roll him into the wall.</p><p>“I’ve already hit you once today,” Taichi mutters, kneeing Yamato in the side as he adjusts his position to try and pin Yamato to the floor. “Don’t make me do it again.”</p><p>Yamato anchors his foot into the wall, using it as leverage as he pushes back. Taichi outweighs and outclasses him as a fighter, but Yamato’s spry and feisty– and he fights dirty– so after a few minutes of tussling, he manages to gain the upper-hand by sinking his teeth into Taichi’s forearm. When Taichi yelps– “what the fuck!”– Yamato uses that as an opportunity to scramble on top of Taichi, capturing one hand under his knee and pinning the other with his hands. He uses his weight to keep Taichi stuck beneath him. Taichi bucks his hips to throw Yamato off balance, but it’s a subdued effort and he ultimately stops resisting. Both of them are breathing heavy– from the yelling and from the scuffle.</p><p>“That was the worst moment of my fucking life,” Yamato repeats, once he’s caught his breath. Yamato stares down at Taichi, straddling him to keep him pinned to the ground; his gaze softer than before, the sheen of what Taichi thinks may be unshed tears reflecting in his eyes. “You told our partners to abandon you and save me and you were going to make me <em>live</em> with that. You were going to make me live <em>without</em> you.”</p><p>His voice is strained, near breaking, and Taichi feels each note as a punch to his chest. Taichi holds Yamato’s gaze and there’s a few minutes where their communication is entirely silent. Brown eyes surveying blue ones, fire staring at sparkling ice– and Taichi sees it. He sees the confusion, the betrayal, the anger, the desperation, the hurt; all gleaning in the back of blue eyes that are trying rid themselves of emotion. But he sees it. It makes his heart ache and he can only hope that the right things are reflected back in his. An apology for the pain he caused– an explanation for his actions, something that hopefully says: <em>I needed to know you were going to be safe; because if you are okay, then I’m okay</em>.</p><p>But the desperation doesn’t leave Yamato’s face and Taichi knows he’s not conveying the right thing. Yamato doesn’t understand, and Taichi needs him too.</p><p>“It’s better than the alternative,” Taichi manages, softly, finally, scrambling for words. <em>I couldn’t lose you, I had to protect you, </em>he thinks, staring up at Yamato face; guilt plaguing him as he eyes the lines of worry that are creasing his otherwise perfect complexion. <em>And it’s better than you having to live with this.</em></p><p>“What alternative, Taichi?” Yamato’s voice breaking from pure exasperation. He releases Taichi’s left hand, raking his hand through his own hair and then brings his fist down, beating it, lightly, against Taichi’s chest. “Tell me,” he says, desperate. “Don’t cut me out.”</p><p>There’s a moment where Taichi desperately tries to think of something to say that will convey the right meaning. He searches for words that will explain why he did it and what he was thinking. But he can’t find them. He’s not even sure the right words exist. He just desperately wants to melt some of the frost off of Yamato’s eyes– he’s desperate to take away any of the pain he’s caused.</p><p>So, when the moment passes and he still hasn’t located the words, he does the next best thing. The only thing he can think of that stands a chance of conveying what he felt and is feeling, damn any and all of the consequences: Taichi takes his free hand and grabs Yamato’s forearm, launching him forward. Taichi wrenches his other hand free and brings it cradle Yamato’s neck to pull him further into him. His mouth crashes against Yamato’s, whose eyes widen in surprise for a second as he internalizes this, but then he’s responding– the kiss deepens almost instantly, as Yamato pushes Taichi back on the floor and presses their chests together.</p><p>The kiss is bruising, eager– desperate. Both of them seeking something that is only found in the other. Taichi’s lips part and Yamato rakes his teeth against Taichi’s bottom lip. Tongues quickly get involved, sliding together, smooth and instinctual. Yamato’s fingers grasp Taichi’s hair, shifting slightly to bring their hips into alignment. Taichi brings his fingers under the hem of Yamato’s shirt, brushing his fingers against his friend’s hips. Yamato moans into his mouth in response, withdrawing slightly at the sound, and then just as quickly pressing his lips back against Taichi’s with urgency, pressing himself hard against Taichi. Taichi tries not to lose himself entirely in the haze of the moment. The moment is sexy and brilliant and so fucking right.</p><p>
  <em>This is perfection. </em>
</p><p>Taichi parts Yamato’s lips again with a flick of his tongue, licking his way deeper into Yamato, like he’s searching for Yamato’s taste—</p><p>Then there’s that stabbing pain in the back of Taichi’s head that launches him out of the moment as quickly as he fell into it. A freight train of anxiety washes over him and his chest tightens. Suddenly, the feeling of Yamato being pressed up against him isn’t perfect anymore– it is <em>crushing</em> him. He gasps and sits up, awkwardly dislodging Yamato from on top of him.</p><p>“Taichi? Tai—” Yamato’s voice fades into the background; he’s now eons away, despite seconds ago being closer than he’d ever been before. And he’s fading fast. The only thing Taichi can hear is the fucking whirling of computers and beeping of the <em>goddamn countdown. </em>He brings his hands to his ears, trying to block out the noise. This place he’s in is flashing red and black and he needs to <em>get out. </em>It feels like the freight train has collided with chest cavity and he’s <em>dying.</em></p><p>He’s on his feet. Stumbling. “Air… gottagetout…” he wheezes.</p><p>There’s something calling his name, but he doesn’t hear it anymore. Somethings grabbing his arm. He looks down, the <em>thing</em> touching him is covered in a red sticky substance– <em>blood</em>. He stumbles back, wrenching himself away. <em>Don’t touch me! </em>He thinks this, but he means to <em>yell it. </em>Maybe he did yell it. There’s a second and a third voice, but he doesn’t <em>know</em> any of these voices, so he’s stumbling away. <em>Get away</em>, he hisses.</p><p><em>Need to get away. Run! </em>the now familiar voice in his head is screaming at him. <em>Get away from the monsters.</em></p><p>He’s floundering, trying to wrench open this <em>cage</em>. He succeeds. He knew he would. The monsters are yelling at him in the background, trying to catch him– restrain him! But he evades them– he escapes them. He’s faster.</p><p>And then he’s running.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s quiet again.</p><p>The river embankment is empty, save for one boy crumbled in the dirt. That boy isn’t sure what time it is when he finally comes to his senses. But when his eyes clear– when the tide of anxiety moves out– it appears that somehow in his panic, he led himself back to the embankment. He’s stares out at the water: the light from the bridge skims off the water, refracting in the raindrops. The sky has opened and rain pelts down on him. He’s soaked through to the bone, there’s mud on his face and chunks in his hair, and his white socks are now black with soot and dirt and all things disgusting. The air is chilly, but as far as he’s concerned, one could consider the evening peaceful.</p><p>He’s not sure how he got here. Or how long it’s been since he started running. He’s still feeling the aftermath of the panic attack– something in the corner of his mind whispering <em>are you sure it’s safe? – </em>but it’s subsiding. He analyzes his hands, tanned and caked in mud, but all the blood that he knows should be on his hands has seemingly washed away. He leans back in the dirt, letting the rain wash everything else away, although he’s sure once it stops, he’ll see the stains.</p><p>For now, he closes his eyes. He’s fine here in the dirt.</p><p>In the dirt he’s eleven years old again.</p><p>In the dirt he has stars on his shirt and in his eyes. In the dirt he leaps first and ask questions later because right and wrong are so <em>clear</em>. In the dirt the bad guys are devils and demons and viruses, not boys with dinosaur friends. In the dirt he has a sister who he loves and protects. He has friends who will follow him to the depths of hell. In the dirt he’s a leader; he’s courageous, strong-willed and innocent. In the dirt he’s a hero.</p><p>In the dirt he can still see the path forward. In the dirt he saves peoples– he hasn’t killed anyone. In the dirt he’s fights monsters– he hasn’t become one. In the dirt he hasn’t become the very thing eleven-year old him stood up against.</p><p>In the dirt he is an eleven-year old boy, a paragon of courage; not a seventeen-year old coward, who may be the villain.</p><p>In the dirt he’s safe. Battles aren’t fought sleeping in the dirt. So, he curls up in the dirt, and despite the rain, despite the mud coating his face, despite the voice that whispers softly, despite the ache in his heart, his chest and his head, despite the chill creeping up his body– he sleeps.</p><p>Here, he’s just a boy sleeping in the dirt, dreaming of how to get home.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think this is my favourite chapter so far, if I can be so arrogant as to pick one for myself. Hope you guys enjoyed as much as I did. Thanks to everyone who has read, given kudos, and/or commented so far! It's really humbling. I love reading your thoughts on the chapters, so please drop me a line if you're so inclined. Helps me want to keep writing. Cheers!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hourglass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Six: Hourglass</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Yamato</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>“Hourglass smashed, a million little pieces<br/>
The countdown, carry on, five, four, three, two."<br/>
– Hourglass, A Perfect Circle </em></strong>
</p>
<p>Sixty-four hours, twenty-seven minutes and a handful of seconds.</p><p>That’s how long it’s been since Taichi ran out of Yamato’s apartment. And no, of those three thousand eight hundred and sixty-seven minutes, not one of them contained a second where Yamato didn’t think about what happened. It has Yamato incredibly worried. To be completely honest, Yamato has long since left worried behind and has now entered the new world of distressed. Not only did Taichi flip out on him and run out of the door so fast that he left both his shoes and Agumon behind– he left whilst muttering a bunch of stuff about blood and shouting at Yamato not to touch him.</p><p>As far as Yamato’s concerned, that’s a pretty good reason to have levelled up to distressed.</p><p><em>And that’s not even accounting for the whole kiss thing, </em>Yamato thinks, even though he’s trying not to dwell on that. <em>Although you try not feeling a bit confused when one second, you’re caught up in a first kiss that fucking good, and the next second that same person is flipping out at you. </em>He scowls, involuntarily, at his own internal monologue. He’s trying really hard not to take that one personally. And to not let his mind wander there.</p><p>He can’t let it wander there.</p><p>But he has to <em>do</em> something. So, leaving Gabumon and Agumon at his place, he’s ventured out to force Taichi to talk to him in person. Which brings him here: standing in front of the Yagami apartment door, at the ungodly hour of just past 10AM on a Saturday morning. Sixty-four excruciating hours and a few text messages– <em>okay, fine,</em> <em>twenty-seven text messages… and eight phone calls– </em>later, Yamato has caved. At first, he thought Taichi just needed some space, but now… now it’s been too long. Taichi ran out of his apartment building <em>sixty-four</em> hours prior to this and hasn’t returned a single one of his messages or attempted to get in touch. He hasn’t even dropped by or sent someone to get Agumon.</p><p>Yamato sighs as he taps his foot on the ground. Taking in a deep breath, he knocks on the door. There is a moment’s pause before he can hear footsteps coming towards the door. They’re too light to be Taichi’s, so he steels himself to face either Taichi’s mother or Hikari. He finds himself hoping it’s Taichi’s mother, as he’s still angry at Hikari and can’t promise he won’t snap at her again.</p><p>Mercifully, Yuuko answers. “Hello Yamato,” she says, as she opens the door. She quirks her eyebrow at him, and he think he sees confusion on her face.</p><p>“Hello,” he bows his head slightly. “Um, is Taichi here?”</p><p>Confusion definitely flutters across her face this time. “No, Yamato,” she says slowly. “I was actually under the impression that he was staying at your place for the weekend.”</p><p>Yamato pales. <em>Well that’s fucking inconvenient. </em>“Um, well, he was– is,” he stumbles. “He left pretty early this morning to do something and forgot a few things. I was hoping he came here so I could drag him back. Maybe he went to the football field… Thanks!” He nods his head again and turns to go.</p><p>“Yamato,” Yuuko’s tone makes Yamato wince. “Is Taichi staying at your place?”</p><p>“Uh, yep.”</p><p>Yuuko’s eyebrow arches again and she pauses, obviously debating how far to push Yamato on his lie. “Well, okay,” she concedes, after a moment’s deliberation. “If you see my son first, tell him he has extra chores when he gets home. If I see my son first, I’ll tell him to call you.”</p><p>Yamato feels his face colour. “Thanks,” he manages.</p><p>“You’re a good friend, covering for my son. Goodbye, Yamato.” Yuuko smiles as she closes the door. Yamato swears she winks at him.</p><p><em>Fuck,</em> Yamato thinks as he heads to the elevator, cursing Taichi– wherever he is. He sighs and digs his phone out of his pocket, needing reinforcements. He scrolls through until he finds the right contact number; the Crest of Knowledge appearing on his screen as he presses call.</p><p>Koushiro answers on the first ring. “Hello, Yamato.”</p><p>“Hey,” he swallows hard. “Um. By chance is Taichi there?”</p><p>There’s a pause. “No, he’s not here. I haven’t seen him since he left my office on Wednesday.”</p><p>Yamato sighs.</p><p>“Why? What’s wrong?”</p><p>Yamato pauses for a beat, thinking. Then, “Can– Can I come by?”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“You’ve got Taichi. Leave me a message if you feel like it, and I’ll return it if I do.”</p><p>
  <em>Beep.</em>
</p><p>“Taichi… It’s Yamato. Again. Answer your phone! I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but apparently, you’re lying to your parents and saying you’re at my place, so the least you can do is have the fucking courtesy to call me back.”</p><p>A pause as he takes a ragged breath in before adding, softly, “Please, Taichi.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“So, if I understand correctly, you got into an argument and then he had a panic attack and he just took off?”</p><p>Yamato is slumped on the couch of Koushiro’s office. He’s just finished telling Koushiro the whole story– well, most of it: they got back to his apartment, they got into an argument about who bore the responsibility for Meicoomon and who controls Omegamon, the argument escalated– “Typical,” Koushiro had muttered, unimpressed– and then Taichi ran out of the apartment in a frenzy, seemingly not recognizing Yamato’s, Agumon’s, or Gabumon’s voice. He may have left out a few details he deemed slightly too personal to share with the nerd. But he covered the major plot points.</p><p>“Yeah, basically,” Yamato mutters in reply. He looks over to where the three Digimon are huddling. Tentomon offered food as soon as they walked in the door, but even Agumon hasn’t taken him up on his offer. Gabumon is leaning against Agumon, offering what little support he feels he can. The two of them have clung to each other for two days now.</p><p>“And you didn’t go after him?”</p><p>“Of course, I did,” Yamato scowls, instantly on the defensive. “But you’ve seen the guy play football– there’s a reason he scores all those goals. He’s crazy fast! I lost him pretty quickly and unless you wanted me to evolve Garurumon in the middle of the fucking day and pursue him down the street, I wasn’t really in a position to chase.”</p><p>Koushiro’s eyebrows knit together in frustration and it looks like he’s genuinely contemplating that Yamato should have done exactly that.</p><p>Yamato throws Koushiro an incredulous look, who stares back. He gestures to Gabumon and Agumon, adding, “We tried to track him, but the trail was confusing, and neither of them could pinpoint a direction. <em>Apparently</em>, there’s a lot of people in this city. Lots of different scents, all overlapping.” He shrugs, knowing he looks tired and defeated. “We tried. You <em>know</em> I tried.”</p><p>Koushiro’s stare softens at that. He nods, then, with a sigh, he stands up and walks over to his desk, reaching over to grab his phone that’s sitting next to his keyboard.  </p><p>“I told you, he’s avoiding calls,” Yamato reminds him, with an edge to his voice, as Koushiro starts dialing.</p><p>“Maybe he’s avoiding <em>your </em>calls,” Koushiro shoots back, raising the phone to his ear. He turns his back to Yamato, looking out the window.</p><p>Yamato scowls, but leans back on the couch to wait. <em>He’s avoiding all calls</em>, Yamato thinks, feeling that on one hand he’ll be pissed if Taichi answers Koushiro’s call after avoiding his for the better part of three days. Yet, on the other hand, he just really wants confirmation that Taichi’s okay. That he’s alive and breathing. Somewhere. On Earth, preferably.</p><p>“Taichi,” Koushiro is saying, and because he doesn’t pause, Yamato knows he’s speaking to Taichi’s voicemail. “Just checking in, return my call when you get this. I acquired an advance copy of a new first-person shooter game and I’d like to test it out. Let me know if you want to come over.” Koushiro hangs up, frowning at the phone.</p><p>“Skillful lie,” Yamato mutters.</p><p>“I’m hypothesizing that the odds of him calling me back are increased if I didn’t associate myself with your fight or worries,” Koushiro clarifies, shrugging. “It’s worth a shot.”</p><p>Yamato nods, because it’s true. There is still a chance that Taichi is solely avoiding his calls, however the fact that Taichi didn’t instantly answer soothes the small part of him that is worried this is just another case of Taichi avoiding him and only him. Like he was after the first battle with Alphamon.</p><p>“Any luck?” Agumon pipes up. Koushiro and Yamato’s heads both swivel to look at the dinosaur-Digimon. Yamato gets up from the couch, striding the few steps over and crouching before him.</p><p>“No,” Yamato says, urging some positivity to enter his voice. “But don’t worry, we will find him.” He reaches over and scratches Agumon’s giant head, trying to offer him some sort of reassurance. It’s the least he can do, Yamato has otherwise utterly failed him: twice now he’s let Agumon’s partner disappear on them. Agumon nuzzles into him, while Gabumon slips a paw into Yamato’s hand.</p><p>Yamato forces himself to smile at the two Digimon, but he feels uneasy only having three-quarters of their partnership here. It isn’t right. They aren’t complete.  The emptiness that dissipated when Taichi returned to them a few days ago has resurged within him with a vengeance: it’s now this icy storm, swirling and raging. He feels abandoned and frustrated but also angry. Leaving him is one thing, but Taichi’s abandoned Agumon too. He looks over at Gabumon; Yamato can’t imagine anything that would possess him to leave Gabumon. If Taichi can’t come back for him, he should come back for Agumon, and the fact that he won’t– or can’t– only makes the emptiness grow talons and tear through him.</p><p>“I’m going to try to pinpoint his Digivice’s signal,” Koushiro says from his computer.</p><p>“You can do that?” Agumon asks, leaving Yamato’s side to go to Koushiro.</p><p>“He sure can!” Tentomon assures Agumon, in his mechanical manner, as he flies over to Koushiro.</p><p>Koushiro smiles, “We all keep our Digivice’s on at all times, which allows Taichi and I to track down the Chosen whenever there’s a problem in the Digital World. Or sometimes when Mimi wants to have a party.” He chuckles. Agumon’s face brightens a bit, standing near Koushiro’s chair as the redhead pulls up a program and starts typing.</p><p>“I hope we find him soon,” Gabumon murmurs, his paw still captured in Yamato’s hand. “Agumon is really worried.” He looks up at Yamato, eyes wide with concern. “And so are you.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“You’ve got Taichi. Leave me a message if you feel like it, and I’ll return it if I do.”</p><p>
  <em>Beep.</em>
</p><p>“You turned off your fucking Digivice? We never turn off our Digivices. That’s your fucking rule, Taichi! What the fuck, man– <em>Call me</em>.”</p><p>He hangs up as aggressively as he can.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Yamato comes back into the room fuming. Koushiro looks up from where is sitting on the couch, listening to his phone. “Okay. Well, if you see him, tell him to call me,” Koushiro says to the person on the other end and hangs up. “Mimi hasn’t seen him,” he tells Yamato, who flops down on the couch. “Nor Sora. They’re at Meiko’s. They said they’d call if they see or hear from him.”</p><p>Yamato pulls out his phone and stares at it. A frown passes across his face. “I should call Takeru, shouldn’t I? I stopped by Taichi’s house, but he might know more… from Hikari.” He says her name bitterly.</p><p>“It’s a small chance, but yes,” Koushiro’s mouth slides into a slight grimace, but he recovers quickly and nods. “And Hikari likely won’t speak to us. She’s not pleased with me either.” Yamato arches an eyebrow at that, but Koushiro doesn’t elaborate. “You call your brother and I’ll inquire with Jou. The younger cohort are still in hospital.”</p><p>Yamato nods and Koushiro wanders to the other side of the room, dialing Jou. Yamato take a deep breath and hits his brother’s name. “Takeru,” he says, when his brother picks up.</p><p>“Oh – Hi,” Takeru sounds surprised. “Hold on a second.” Yamato can hear him excuse himself and a door being softly shut, then the sounds of street noises filling up the background. Takeru must have gone out on a balcony. “What’s up big brother?”</p><p>“Have you seen Taichi?” Yamato cuts straight to the point.</p><p>There’s a pause on the other end. “No,” Takeru says, finally. “I’m at Hikari’s now, but he’s not here. I think he’s making himself scarce. I caught a glimpse of him yesterday, but he ran out right away. I’m surprised he’s not with you—”</p><p>“Does Hikari know where he went?” Yamato interrupts.</p><p>“No… They are not speaking. She’s hurt by everything that happened, and I think part of her is unsure that it’s over. She says she feels like something dark is still out there– traces of extraneous data. She’s struggling,” Takeru explains.</p><p>“Struggling,” Yamato repeats and grits his teeth. The word stings his tongue.</p><p>“Well, yes,” Takeru has the decency to sound a bit bashful, but he continues on to justify the words, “A mix between tiredness and fear. I think she’s scared that Taichi could have just as easily decided to destroy Tailmon as well. I mean a few minutes earlier and Tailmon would have still been in there. He would have destroyed her too. I think her anger is justified, don’t you? She could have lost Tailmon for good. I know what it’s like to lose your partner. It’s… the worst feeling in the world– there are no words. It’s hard to understand unless you’ve been there…”</p><p>“I think<em> I</em> understand,” Yamato interjects, irritated. The tone of his voice dropping into something icy, into a tone he never uses with Takeru. He lost <em>Taichi</em>. Taichi was ripped out of him– half of their partnership fell, was lost, and barely made it back. <em>Does nobody else understand this?</em> Yamato thinks, <em>I lost my partner too. I lost my friend. I lost the person I need– </em>he stops his thoughts abruptly, biting down on his lip to keep from snapping aloud at his brother.</p><p>Takeru notices the tone. There’s a long pause. “Did you need something else, big brother?” Takeru says, sounding uneasy. “Otherwise I should get back.” When Yamato doesn’t reply, he hangs up the phone, leaving Yamato listening to dead noise, or maybe it’s the sound of the first layer of a wall being built.</p><p>Yamato falls back onto the couch, letting out a huff of frustration. Koushiro’s still on the other side of the room, deep in conversation, so Yamato opens the web browser on his phone, needing some sort of productive distraction. He searches ‘panic attacks’ and scrolls through the results, finally clicking on a link that looks promising. <em>Just give me, something, anything to let me be helpful… next time,</em> he thinks, adjusting his search terms and skimming through the new results.</p><p>“Jou hasn’t seen him,” Koushiro says as he comes back to the middle of the room. Yamato looks up from the article he’s reading and nods as Koushiro proceeds to tell him some anecdote about how Jou has fallen back into a studying coma– description courtesy of Gomamon– but to call them if they’re needed.</p><p>Yamato sighs, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “Do you think he could be in the Digital World?” Yamato muses, after the two boys are silent for a few minutes.</p><p>“Without Agumon?” Gabumon asks the obvious question and Agumon nods along.</p><p>Koushiro shrugs, “It would be difficult for him to find a portal, but… I suppose it’s not impossible.”</p><p>Gabumon and Agumon exchange a long look. “We’ll go,” Gabumon announces. Neither Digimon said a word aloud and Yamato can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy course through him. “We’ll look there, you’ll look here. We can contact Tentomon through the computer if we find anything.”</p><p>Koushiro’s response is slow, “We should be able to sustain a gate long enough for you search for maybe twelve hours and still get back… I haven’t finalized the code to keep the gates open any longer.”</p><p>Yamato crouches down and Gabumon waddles over to him. “Are you sure?” he murmurs, petting the soft pelt on top of Gabumon’s head.</p><p>Gabumon nuzzles into him. “You need him,” he says softly, knowingly.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Yamato (12:07): <strong>Where are you? I’m worried…Text me back. </strong></p>
</blockquote><p>He grimaces and presses send.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A few hours later, Yamato and Koushiro are seated at a ramen joint that apparently Koushiro and Taichi frequent when they’re hanging out alone. “We usually come here after Taichi runs out of money at the arcade,” Koushiro explained matter-of-factly, when he’d steered them here. They’re running out of places to look, having exhausted Taichi’s regular haunts, including having to suffer through conversing with Taichi’s soccer-bros. Yamato agreed the ramen joint was worth a shot, even though he internally scoffed at the idea of the two <em>almost-adults </em>playing arcade games. Koushiro was the one that suggested they actually eat when they poked their head in.</p><p>Yamato pushes the noodles around in his carton. There’s silence as Koushiro studies the computer, mostly as Yamato has long realized that he shares next to nothing in common with Koushiro, aside from their shared destiny as Chosen and their friendship with Taichi. Yamato has never really <em>gotten </em>Koushiro– sure he appreciates that the genius gets them out of all sorts of jams, but he doesn’t <em>understand</em> Koushiro. And to him, Taichi and Koushiro have always seemed like polar opposites. Their friendship baffles him. Sure, Yamato and Taichi appear like opposites too, but they’re ultimately two sides of the same coin– Koushiro and Taichi have always seemed diametrically opposed.</p><p>But watching Koushiro focus on the singular task of tracking Taichi, Yamato thinks he understands their friendship a bit more. They’re both determined, bullheaded, and carved from iron will– Taichi’s just more likely to charge at the problem, while Koushiro’s going to deconstruct it. If he’s honest, that’s probably why Taichi trusts Koushiro so much: they share the same core. And if he’s even more honest, that’s why he’s here, because if anyone is going to take this Taichi-disappearing sequel to heart, it’s Koushiro. It was written on Koushiro’s face from the very beginning, that implicit trust, the gut feeling– the look saying, ‘yes, you’re right, something is terribly wrong.’ So maybe they have next to nothing else in common, but they have Taichi in common and they’d both go to the ends of damn world– or another world– for him.</p><p>“Both his phone and digivice are still off,” Koushiro announces suddenly, and Yamato looks up. Koushiro is frowning, as he types at his computer. “I can remotely turn them on so we can track him, but that may take some time.”</p><p>Yamato is mildly alarmed that Koushiro is capable of doing such things, but given the circumstances, maybe it’s for the best. He nods, and looks back at his food, continuing to push the noodles around and attempt to avoid thinking about, well, <em>that. </em>Though… he can’t avoid it thinking about it forever…</p><p>He kissed his friend. His <em>best</em> friend. His evolution <em>partner</em>.</p><p>It’s not like it was his first time kissing someone. It wasn’t even his first time kissing a guy– he’s in a band, things… happen– but it is his first time kissing someone he cares about <em>that</em> much. And if he’s still being honest with himself, it’s not like the idea hasn’t crossed his mind before. For the first time in what feels like ages, he felt like they were on the exact same wavelength. It felt… right– instinctual. And unbelievably reassuring. In a way, kissing felt like something they’d done a thousand times, a memory of being connected. He felt energized. Invincible. Complete.</p><p>Yamato knows Taichi isn’t meant for him, but it’s always felt <em>so much</em> like he is. Like he’d always been, ever since they were eleven and he was gripping Yamato’s hand, refusing to let go even when they tumbled over a frozen cliff. They’re woven from the same cloth, they exist on the same frequency, their energies are compatible, and their hearts beat the same. Their souls are <em>linked</em>; they have been since the first time they combined to form Omegamon, maybe even before. No one could ever know Taichi like he does, and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that there’s been a part of him that has always felt like they’re destined to belong to each other.</p><p>Or maybe that’s a fantasy. A misinterpretation of facts. They’re partners fighting a war, there’s no blissful ending to this. The events of the last week have proved that. Taichi couldn’t be meant for him, when he can’t even protect him. Taichi couldn’t be destined to belong to someone who just lets him down.</p><p>He also feels like an idiot. A small part of him is continuously replaying the moment and wondering whether that is why Taichi is ignoring him– maybe they’ve fractured the partnership permanently. They broke the friendship that survived three fights to save the world; arrows being shot through them; countless fist-fights; an unfortunate instance of one of those best friends trying to kill the other one; a minor disagreement over a certain girl; evolution break-ups; and one of those best friends falling through the ground. But yeah, maybe that kiss finally broke them. Maybe even permanently. Yamato’s mind is whirling. Yet, the other parts of him knows it’s more than that– something’s wrong. He can feel it.</p><p>“Yamato?” Koushiro uttering his name breaks Yamato out of his thoughts.</p><p>“Yeah? Find something?”</p><p>“No,” Koushiro purses his lips. “I need a program that’s on my main computer. I can’t access it from here.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“I was just going to ask,” Koushiro twirls a chopstick in his hand nervously. It’s a gesture that looks odd on the usually composed redhead. “We’ve spent all of today talking about Taichi. But… are <em>you</em> doing okay? I mean… do you want to talk.”</p><p>Yamato arches an eyebrow, skeptically. But before he can say anything, Koushiro continues, “I just know that I’m struggling. Taichi’s been my best friend for a long time and I have no idea what happened to him, or what he’s dealing with, or where he is, and that’s weighing on me considerably. And you’re closer to him than anyone. He’s your best friend—”</p><p>“He’s not my best friend,” Yamato asserts, purely out of habit.</p><p>Koushiro frowns. Then, firmly, as if there’s no disputing it: “He’s your best friend. But fine, if you insist. He’s your <em>partner</em>– and he fell while your partners were fused together, which means he was essentially yanked right out of you, in a sense. I’ve obviously never participated in a Jogress evolution, but Miyako and Ken have told me a lot about their experiences, so I can extrapolate–and yours and Taichi’s has always seemed more… intricate. Consuming.” Koushiro pauses, clearly stopping himself from going too much into the detail. “I’m just saying, that has to be difficult to deal with. Having someone’s essence pulled out of you like that. In addition, whatever happened to him could have easily happened to you and Meiko, had different choices been made.” He stops, takes a deep breath. “So, I’m just saying, if you want to talk, I know I wouldn’t be your first choice, but… I’m available, if you… want to talk.”</p><p>Yamato pauses, stirring the noodles in his barely eaten ramen. It could have been him, and yet, somehow, that reality bothers him less than knowing that it was Taichi. He would have accepted that fate– he didn’t ask to be saved. He hated the feeling of having half of himself torn out of him. He hates that Taichi is struggling because of him. And while he appreciates Koushiro’s offer, he’s not sure he wants to unload his worries on anybody. Not now, not yet, maybe not ever.</p><p>Instead, he nods, and smiles languidly, “Thanks, Koushiro. But I’m fine. I just want to find Taichi.”</p><p>Koushiro shakes his head in a way that indicates he knows Yamato is withholding. “If you’d rather I can refer you to Sora or Jou,” he adds in a tone that could be interpreted as teasing.</p><p>Yamato shakes his head but gives Koushiro a half-smile. A long pause follows before Yamato opens his mouth again. “Do you want to talk?” Yamato asks, because he feels like he should.</p><p>“Oh,” Koushiro stutters, fiddling with the chopstick again, “No, I’m fine. I found someone to… speak with.”</p><p>“Who?” Yamato asks, genuinely curious.</p><p>“Ah,” Koushiro blushes, “Well, Mimi.” He says the last part quickly and tucks his head down as if to read something on his computer screen.</p><p>Yamato chuckles and Koushiro looks startled at the sound. Yamato waves his hand, “No, sorry,” he laughs, “Good for you, man– really, good for you. Mimi’s… Mimi’s something else.”</p><p>If possible, Koushiro flushes a deeper shade of red, almost matching his hair. He stammers something that sounds like an agreement and Yamato finds himself, despite the day’s events, chuckling again. At least someone’s getting what they want. He offers Koushiro a reassuring smile, but the other boy seems too embarrassed to elaborate, and the two of them settle back into silence. Yamato picks up his coffee cup and sips at the remainder of it, staring at the coffee grinds that circle the rim. If Taichi would just answer his damn phone, maybe there’s a chance he could get what he wants too.</p><p>As he’s studying the cup, a shadow forms over their table. Both he and Koushiro look up, eyes travelling up the body of a suit. The suit is tall, thin, it looks at them through dark sunglasses, it has short hair that is styled meticulously, and it is wearing a terse expression, lips drawn tightly, unsmiling.</p><p>“Mr. Ishida, Mr. Izumi,” the suit says, greeting them.</p><p>“Hello,” Koushiro replies, politely. Yamato just stares, a sense of uneasy overcoming him. He’s wary of strangers at the best of times, but the last time a suit came up to him he ended up fighting another war. Gabumon almost forgot him. He lost Taichi. Which led them to this table in the first place.</p><p>The suit seems to be studying them. It’s hard to tell because of the sunglasses, but there’s the slightest motion in the suit’s face that seems indicate his eyes are scanning the two of them. There’s a pause while the suit studies them, and Yamato begins to fill impatient. “Can we help you?” he snaps, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing.</p><p>The suit cracks a wry smile and his hand digs into his pocket, fishing out his wallet. He opens it and takes out a business card. “Unfortunately, no,” the suit replies, as he hands the business card face down to Koushiro. “But your friend can. Could you please give that card to Mr. Yagami? It’s imperative we speak with him.” And then, before they can reply, the suit nods his head at the both of them and walks away.</p><p>Feeling anxious, Yamato slides his chair around the table. Koushiro flips over the card:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Agent Akira Takamasa</strong><br/>
<strong>Grade 1 Management Officer</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Incorporated Administrative Agency</strong><br/>
<strong>National Data Processing Bureau</strong>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope this chapter doesn't feel too much like filler - it's not, honestly, but I fear it may feel that way. Particularly because it's long - maybe I could have cut the first part with Yuuko, but I thought it was amusing and couldn't find the heart to cut it. Yamato being a terrible liar amuses me in ways I can't fully explain. Anyway, hopefully you're not disappointed - there's at least four instances of some foreshadowing to future chapters, five if you squint a little bit. I personally kinda like this chapter, so I hope it doesn't feel anti-climatic. But let me know in the comments - I welcome the constructive-criticism. Love your takes, so please keep them coming. </p><p>Also next to Yamato, Koushiro is likely my favourite character so I hope I managed to get his characteristics right. It would pain me otherwise. And some background Mishirou/Koumi, if you're into that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Day the World Went Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Additional Chapter Warnings: mild drug use, underage drinking, original characters (if that bothers you), and I guess some mild sexism on behalf of the author (not Taichi!) as some OCs didn't get names (I feel slightly guilty, but it was for artistic reasons).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Seven: The Day the World Went Away</strong>
</h4>
<h4>
  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>“There is a place that still remains </em><br/>
<em>It eats the fear it eats the pain</em><br/>
<em>The sweetest price he'll have to pain</em><br/>
<em>The day the whole world went away."</em><br/>
<em>-The Day the World Went Away, Nine Inch Nails</em></strong>
</p>
<p>He needs to calm down. He needs <em>something </em>to help him calm down.</p><p>He feels like he’s been trembling for days now. He probably has, as the voice– who is beginning to feel too much like a roommate or common acquaintance– has been continuously whispering obscenities at him, sending waves of panic through his body like electric shocks. Taichi crawled into his bed two days ago, unable to stand the weight of it all, and spent the hours riding waves of panic attacks until his body collapsed from exhaustion, only to be awoken by nightmares, muffling screams in his pillow.</p><p>He remerged yesterday morning, hearing Hikari and Takeru laughing in the kitchen and deciding to <em>try</em>– only to have them fall silent when he cracked open his door. Hikari quickly led Takeru to her room without even a glance in his direction and Takeru looked back at him, awkwardly, but saying nothing. The slam and click of her bedroom door shutting felt like a sentence being handed down and Taichi had stood there, hands clenched into fists while the voice taunted him– <em>sure, you’ve drifted apart in the few years since your last adventure in the Digital World, but this distance is insurmountable</em>, it whispered. He’d stared at the closed door, for some time between a minute and eternity, before he pulled himself back into his bedroom, just as his legs collapsed beneath him, hitting the ground with a graceless thud, one hand coming to his chest where his heart was seemingly trying to escape its snug spot in his chest cavity.</p><p>He’d left the apartment soon after he regained control and hasn’t been back since, choosing to avoid his family and all texts and calls from any Chosen– even Yamato– and immere himself in a steady flow of alcohol, courtesy of his football teammates.</p><p><em>You’re a coward, avoiding them all, </em>the voice yells in his head. The sound of it sends a jolt up his chest and makes his hands shake, so he shoves them in his pocket to steady them. As he does, he feels his phone– the one he’s been incapable of answering for days– vibrate. Out of habit, he reacts to the vibration, swiping to open the most recent message, and as he reads, he’s unsure whether the queasiness in his stomach is from the hangover or the content:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Yamato (12:07): <strong>Where are you? I’m worried… </strong><strong>Text me back. </strong></p>
</blockquote><p>He grimaces as guilt stabs him. The stabbing hurts<em>, </em>but he can’t cope with this right now, so he holds down the button on the side of his phone, watching as it slowly turns to black before he shoves it back into his pocket. <em>I’m sorry, Yamato, </em>he thinks, tucking his chin to his chest in shame as he navigates the sidewalk, hurrying towards his destination.</p><p>When he arrives, he quickly scans the street to ensure a certain moped isn’t found amongst the vehicles littering the area. He doesn’t see it, but his eyes land on something else that jogs a memory: a black sedan with tinted windows. It looks familiar, like he should be able to place it, but his brain feels overwhelmed and he’s struggling to remember– oh.</p><p>It’s one of <em>those</em> cars.</p><p><em>Fuck,</em> he thinks, hurrying towards the door of the building. When he gets there, he takes a deep breath and twists the doorknob, walking into the small jam space, hoping he’s hypothesized correctly or he’s about to get an earful– or a fist to his face. His eyes quickly scan the room before landing on the person he’s looking for, crouching behind a drum set, fiddling with the height of the cymbals. The dark-haired figure looks up when he sees Taichi enter the room.</p><p>“Yagami,” Tomohiro exclaims, standing up and brushing his hands off on his jeans. “Ishida’s not here, so if you’re looking for him–” Taichi shakes his head cutting Tomohiro off.</p><p>“No, I’m not looking for Yamato,” he clarifies, clasping Tomohiro’s hand and leaning in to bump shoulders. He can picture Yamato’s reaction to their greeting– exaggerated rolling of blue eyes and exasperated ‘you’re such dumb fucking bros’, before smacking the back of Taichi’s head. “Actually, I came by to ask a favour of you,” he continues, clenching his fist to keep it from shaking. He’s known Tomohiro for years, prior to the band getting relatively serious, the two of them used to play football together– he’s also the most street guy that Taichi knows.</p><p>“Ah,” Tomohiro says, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “This is what you get for being friends with strait-laced footballers and not some more colourful individuals, Yagami.” He laughs and Taichi offers him a small smile in return. “What are you thinking?”</p><p>Taichi shrugs. “Just need something to help calm some nerves, man,” he replies, feeling on edge.</p><p>Tomohiro gives him a quizzical look, “I thought all of your nerves were made of steel.” He digs around his side bag, coming out with two tin cans. Tomohiro looks over at Taichi, a frown fluttering across his face before shoving one of them back into his bag. “Shouldn’t give you that one, Ishida will skin us both.”</p><p>Taichi manages a small chuckle at the mention of Yamato’s wrath, knowing that no matter what Tomohiro gives him, Yamato will be unimpressed. Not that Yamato hasn’t dabbled in his fair share of extracurricular activities, but he’ll find Taichi’s reasoning lacklustre– a sentiment that would be expressed with a click of his tongue in hypocritical disapproval.</p><p>“It’s none of Yamato’s business,” Taichi says, a bit more defensively than he intends. He shakes his head to rid himself of the image of Yamato’s skeptical face.</p><p>“Still,” Tomohiro says, by way of a rationale. He walks back over to Taichi and hands him the tin can. “Most of that is rolled already. It’s my personal stash, but I’m seeing my guy later tonight so I can replace it.” He grins, “A favour for my old captain.”</p><p>Taichi chuckles again. They settle up, Taichi digging out some cash from his pocket, handing it over to Tomohiro. Tomohiro reaches over and opens the tin can, pulling out a joint.</p><p>“One for the road?” he asks, winking in a way that’s entirely unnecessary. Taichi nods, eager to dull the pulsing in his head and maybe shut up the voice that’s living up there for a bit. Tomohiro lights up, taking a drag off the joint and handing it over. Taichi takes a drag, coughing as he exhales and continuing as he passes it back.</p><p>By the time it makes it back to him a third time, he already feels a bit smoother around the edges.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Maybe it’s the weed-brain making him paranoid, but he’s reasonably sure that black sedan has been following him for six blocks. Taichi sighs and turns down another street, pulling his hood over his head and attempting to blend in with the other pedestrians. When he can, he ducks into a park, walking down a footpath to escape the road, and hopefully the sedan.</p><p>Once in the park, he deliberately veers away from his regular spots, as there’s an increased chance Yamato will just stumble upon him there. He’s not exactly avoiding Yamato, but he’s also not exactly eager to face him again. Not yet. He will– he doesn’t have any regrets, apart from the whole running thing– just… not today.</p><p>For today he doesn’t want to be Taichi Yagami, Chosen Child, Leader of the Chosen Children, bearer of the Crest of Courage and, apparently, Digimon-destroying monster. Today he just wants to be Taichi Yagami, high school student, captain of his football team, bearer of slightly above-average grades, and, apparently, part-time delinquent who smokes marijuana in parks. He wants <em>one day</em> where he doesn’t have to bear the responsibility of two worlds, lead his friends to their potential deaths, and sacrifice things that should <em>never</em> be scarified. He doesn’t think that’s too much to ask.</p><p>And as Yamato’s part of the former identity, Yamato is to be avoided.</p><p>Honestly, it’s not <em>really</em> avoiding, as it is compartmentalizing.</p><p>Taichi is far enough from his regular spots in the park, so he stops his aimless wandering and finds a tree to sit against as he digs out another joint from the tin he acquired from Tomohiro, lighting it and inhaling slowly and deeply, until the smoke stings his lungs and he coughs.</p><p>Yamato would make fun of him for using that word– compartmentalizing. He’d be thrown an incredulous look, Yamato’s hand coming to sit on his hip, as he cocks his blond head to the side and asks, sarcastically, right-eyebrow arched <em>perfectly </em>in a question mark, if Taichi even knows what that word means, to which Taichi would retort ‘I’m not a cretin, <em>Ya-ma-to’</em>, with that exact inflection, and Yamato would chuckle and jab him in the ribs. Or he would, if Taichi was <em>that </em>Taichi, the one that belongs in Yamato’s world. But he’s not. Not today.</p><p>Taichi inhales again. Usually the high-strung, anxious and emotional right-below-the-surface routine is owned and operated by Yamato, so it’s a bit strange to be the one leaning against a tree in the park, inhaling illegal substances and trying to not fall apart. But he has his fair share of reasons– no wait, he doesn’t! Taichi Yagami, high school student and football player has zero reasons to be this fucked up, except for the simple fact that he wants to be. </p><p><em>Damn, I forgot how nice it is to not be a murderer and a coward who let his teacher die, </em>he thinks, taking another sharp drag off the joint. <em>Taichi Yagami high school student and football player has it easy. He’s a delight. I might be him tomorrow too.</em></p><p>He laughs, aloud to himself, at his own stupid joke. Yamato would punch him. Or slam his hand into a locker to block Taichi’s path and demand Taichi be better than this.</p><p><em>Get out of my head, Yamato, and take your unreasonable expectations with you, </em>Taichi thinks with a scowl. <em>You don’t belong here today. </em>Taichi blinks a few times, taking another drag off the joint and tries to shove all blond thoughts out of his head. He needs a distraction and as if on cue, his stomach growls. Taichi laughs again; he’d forgotten about that consequence of this particular indulgence. He tilts his head back, wondering what he should go purchase for himself. Agumon would want burgers from– <em>Ah, that’s also a not so welcome thought. Agumon. The other partner you ran out on and abandoned. Twice. Wow, Taichi Yagami, Chosen Child, is an asshole... </em></p><p>Taichi takes a final drag off the joint before snubbing it out against the tree. He puts the roach back into the tin can, shoves it in his pocket, and boosts himself to his feet. He feels a bit strange and fuzzy, and he might be crying, although he’s not sure because he also feels smooth and soft on all the edges of his head that have been impaling him with spikes of anxiety for days now.</p><p>He’s an asshole for this, but he deserves one day– <em>one fucking day. </em></p><p>He’s starting to walk down the path, heading in search of food– definitely not burgers– when he hears a voice shout at him: “Yagami!” the voice calls. Taichi has to really concentrate to realize that the voice is coming from the real world this time and not his head. When comprehension sets in, he freezes, his heart suddenly pounding a bit faster in his chest. He tucks his head down– maybe, just maybe, they won’t come up to him.</p><p>“Mr. Yagami,” the voice says again, and a hand reaches out to touch his shoulder. Taichi jumps, whirling around to face the owner of the voice that has been calling his name and vaulting back a step, out of the man’s reach.</p><p>He finds himself face to face with a man wearing a black suit, pressed white shirt and a thin black tie, holding sunglasses in his hand. Taichi’s breath catches in his throat as he stares at the man confronting him. Despite the smoothness and the softness, he can feel the thrum of anxiety in the back of his head, supplying him with unwanted images and helping him confuse this man with another. Taichi gulps, swallowing back images of red flashes and shirts soaked in blood, and forces himself to really look at the man standing in front of him– his hair is too styled, his eyes too dark, his face too angular, his expression too terse, unfriendly, and his voice is all wrong…</p><p>“Mr. Yagami?” the man asks, again, taking a step forward. “My name is Agent Takamasa; I need to speak to you about—”</p><p>“He’s not here,” Taichi interrupts, quickly taking another step back. The man looks confused and opens his mouth to protest, but Taichi doesn’t wait for a response before he turns and bolts uncourageously down the pathway.</p><p>He’s not <em>that </em>Taichi, he can’t help.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It’s a Saturday night and Taichi Yagami, football star, is at a bar. A sketchy bar, in a weird part of town he never comes to, but one that his football teammates assured him wouldn’t ID. They’d laughed and egged him on– ‘we can party properly,’ they’d called, hooting and hollering– and now he and six of his teammates are scattered across this shithole of an establishment. At least the sake is good– nay, great. He’s put back more than he thought he could and is positively wasted.</p><p>“She’d totally fuck you right now,” Kaede, one of his defensemen, says, sliding into the booth Taichi is occupying. He gestures across the room to a brunette standing on the other side of the bar who is making doe-eyes in Taichi’s direction. Taichi shrugs and throws back a shot. “Pick one then,” Kaede says, opening his arms wide to imply Taichi should look around.</p><p>He does: the bar is plenty of attractive females, some of whom do keep batting their eyelashes at him, eyes filled with promises that they’d be pliant and willing if he only look their way, and he thinks that, no, he’d rather something more challenging and demanding and for some reason, scowls tempt him more than these flirtatious smiles. He shrugs again and his teammate wave his hands dismissively at him, vacating the booth to go find a target for himself.</p><p>Taichi doesn’t mind. He turns his attention back to the alcohol in front of him. The sake, combined with the weed he’s been medicating with thanks to Tomohiro, has dulled the edge of his anxiety to a single throbbing point. The room is spinning, but that’s better than his thoughts. Taichi picks up another sake shot, hoping this is the magic one that will finally kill the anxiety dead.</p><p>“You’re hot,” a voice states, and he looks up to see a girl sliding into the booth next to him.</p><p>“I’ve been told that before,” Taichi grins, throwing back the shot glass of sake he’s holding. A second pause to reflect on the state of his head; this isn’t the magic shot.</p><p>The girl laughs, throwing her very-obviously dyed blond hair back behind her, and offering him another dazzling smile. <em>She’s attractive enough, if you want that sort of thing, </em>he thinks<em>.</em> “Funny too,” she teases, tapping his nose.</p><p>He leans in like he’s about to tell her a secret. “I’m fucking hilarious,” he stage-whispers. This time he grabs her drink of something pink and probably fruity and drinks that too. It’s disgusting. Also, not magic.</p><p>She laughs again. “So cute and so funny,” she purrs, in what Taichi imagines she thinks is a seductive voice. “Is the cute and funny boy going to buy me a drink to replace that one? I’m–”</p><p>Taichi’s pretty certain that sentence ended in her name, but he doesn’t hear it. It’s just Girl to him now. He grins, which seems to be enough for Girl, and waves over a waitress, ordering another half dozen shots. Girl smiles again and slides closer to him, draping her leg over his, skirt riding up to expose a too tanned thigh. Girl would be sitting in his lap if there was more room between the bench and the table.</p><p>The shots arrive and he hands Girl two and slams back four himself. None of them magical. Girl giggles and drinks them, slower than she should if she wants to keep up with him.</p><p>“Yagami!” Taichi looks up to see one of his mates holding up a beer and motioning to it, the universal sign for asking if he wants one. He nods, enthusiastically; maybe beer is the cure. Few minutes later Masaharu, his deputy captain, slides into the booth alongside his pretty-thing of the evening, a girl with shoulder-length black hair wearing a low-cut red dress that doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination. He slides a beer over to Taichi.</p><p>Red Dress loops her arm around Masaharu and runs her tongue along his jawline. Girl does the same to Taichi, pressing dry kisses against the side of his neck. Masaharu grins and raises his eyebrows in a ‘how good is this?’ sort of exchange. Taichi grins in response and uses the hand that’s not obstructed to raise the hopefully-magic-beer to his mouth and chugs a significant portion of it. When he puts its down, Girl grabs Taichi’s face and attaches her lips to his.</p><p>“Ishida came by the field looking for you today,” Masaharu informs him, as he watches Girl make-out with Taichi. “Seemed concerned. Yelled at me. Thought his skinny ass was going to try to hit me,” Masaharu laughs. “Trouble in paradise?”</p><p>Taichi ignores him, as Girl slips her tongue in his mouth. It’s awkward and fraught.</p><p>Masaharu laughs and gestures at the situation before him, “I told him you just needed to blow off some steam and get laid. And that it is hard to do that with some pretty boy guitarist hovering over you, judging your every move.”</p><p>Taichi dislodges himself from the grasp of Girl’s annoyingly tender kiss. <em>Bassist, </em>he thinks, as apparently there’s a difference or so he’s been told on several occasions. As for the other adjective, Taichi more objects to the tone than the statement– Yamato <em>is </em>sort of pretty, girls like his face and Taichi sees why. He growls, “Fuck off, Masaharu.”</p><p>“Just wondering, man,” Masaharu shrugs. “He seems pretty attached to you, for someone that can fill a whole theatre with fan-girls. What’s up with that?” </p><p>Taichi ignores him. “Wanna go outside?” Taichi slurs at Girl, who nods enthusiastically. He ushers her out of the table, turning to Masaharu as he leaves. “Lay off Yamato.”</p><p>“Aye, aye, Captain,” Masaharu quips, mock saluting Taichi. Taichi rolls his eyes as Girl pulls him from the table, giggling. <em>Fuck she laughs too much,</em> Taichi thinks. <em>Who laughs this much?</em></p><p>Once outside, Taichi steers Girl into the alleyway. They stumble halfway down the alley, laughing, and pull up against the side of the building where they are out of sight. Girl giggles and kisses him again. He dislodges his lips from her grasp, pulling out another of the joints that Tomohiro gave him and slides it between his lips. He lights it and takes a few long drags. Wordlessly, he holds it out to Girl.</p><p>Girl giggles. Again. “No, I can think of something better to do with my mouth,” Girl says, as she fumbles with the buttons on his jeans. Taichi leans against the wall, putting the joint back in his mouth and inhales deeply.</p><p><em>Yamato, </em>his drunken mind breathes. <em>Goddamn Yamato and his weird way of caring, and his thirty-eight text messages, and thirteen phone calls. And his scowling and yelling and biting to win fights; and biting in other things... Idiot. </em>Taichi scowls at the thought.</p><p>“What’s wrong, baby?” Girl asks, raising her mouth from where it was trying to eat his neck on her slow, too gentle, descent down; her hand having found its way into his jeans.</p><p><em>And his electric kiss. Fucking hell… that bruising, demanding kiss..</em>. His breath hitches, and it’s not because of Girl.</p><p>“Fuck,” Taichi spits the joint out onto the ground and wrenches Girl’s hands out of his pants. He fumbles as he does up the zipper and button, half-hard even though he was too caught up in his thoughts to pay attention to whatever unskilled delicate actions Girl was undertaking. “Sorry Girl, I have somewhere I gotta go.”</p><p>He slides past her and stumbles back down the alleyway. He leaves Girl there.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Progress, right? Of sorts! Thanks again to everyone who is reading along - your kudos and comments mean a lot to me, and some of you have been really lovely in the comments making me blush and stuff. I'm away for a bit at the end of July, but I'm aiming to get at least the next chapter out before I go. This seems like a cruel place to leave it... Unfortunately for present-day us (but not unfortunately for later in August readers) I keep getting distracted and writing scenes out of order. I wrote an amusing Mimi scene the other day that I'm excited for... but we're a few chapters away from that.</p><p>Anyway, love hearing your thoughts and theories in the comments, please keep them coming! Makes me inspired to keep writing!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Come in Out of the Pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Eight: Come in Out of the Pain</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Yamato</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>“Come in out of the pain and let me dry your tears </em><br/>
<em>Well [you’ve] been gone for days and I've loved you for years </em><br/>
<em>Oh lay down in my arms, there ain't no shame </em><br/>
<em>But don't just stand there, come in out of the pain."</em><br/>
-Come in out of the Pain, Doug Stone </strong>
</p>
<p>When Yamato closes his eyes to try to sleep, he just sees this: green light splitting the ground, earth shifting beneath him, hands shoving him, dust rising. And that frustrating boy trying to outrun the cracking of the earth– and failing. He screams– “Taichi!”</p><p>Fast forward.</p><p>Now, here’s where the pictures playing against his eyelids can go multiple ways.</p><p>Sometimes, he’s standing in the water, then that stupid girl runs out, water cascading up as a tentacle collides with the surface. He waits. This is it. <em>Any</em> second. And then <em>he </em>appears, and despite the dream being terrible, and a battle still needing to be won, relief washes over him. This integral part of his universe snaps back into place.</p><p>Other times, he’s standing in the water, then that stupid girl runs out, water cascading up as a tentacle collides with the surface. He waits. This is it. <em>Any</em> second. But he never appears– oh, god– he <em>never</em> appears. He never comes back to him<em>. </em>He’s not late, he’s just… <em>gone</em>. And he can feel it in his soul that he’s gone for good.</p><p>Today the second option plays, and when it finishes, he’s left standing there, feeling small and all <em>alone</em> again.</p><p>Blue eyes fly open– chest tensing, pulse quickening. Another unsuccessful attempt at sleep.</p><p>He’d love it if he could sleep.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Yamato sits on his bed, his guitar draped across his lap, playing through the intro to a new song he’s currently writing. He’s writing to distract himself, trying to starve the helplessness he feels. There’s other things he’d rather be doing– sleeping, for instance– and he’d <em>really</em> rather be loafing around with Taichi, just to have him near and to have the ability to <em>look </em>at him. Up close and personal: no interruptions, nothing to pose a danger or break them apart. No battles to fight. Just time to look. To make sure Taichi’s all in one piece– to stare at him until he’s assured that Taichi really came back to him, intact and complete.</p><p>He also wants to kiss him again, really badly, but he’ll settle for an opportunity just to look. He’ll settle for being able to assure himself that Taichi is back and isn’t going anywhere, ever again. He needs that. He needs assurance, if he’s ever going to close his eyes again and not see green light and dust and pain.</p><p>If he’s ever going to sleep through the night again.</p><p>Yamato scratches at the notepad in front of him, changing a few of the chords around. He’s sitting in essentially darkness, a small steak of the streetlights streaming in his bedroom window casting light on his notebook, just enough to allow him to squint at the pages. His soul feels melancholic, sad and lonely– so the darkness feels right. He’d never admit it aloud, but it strikes just the right balance between sorrowful and romantic, putting him in the mood to write and helping push some of the perturbation out of his head and onto the paper.</p><p>He’s hitting some sort of writing groove, when there’s a banging at the apartment door. Yamato glances up from his guitar to eye the clock sitting on his desk. <em>Who the fuck is banging on the door at 1:25AM? </em>he thinks, reflexively. His father isn’t home again and for a moment Yamato considers just ignoring it.<em> But–</em> <em>what if?</em> he thinks, barely daring to hope.</p><p>Sighing, Yamato puts his guitar on his bed and ambles to the door. “What?!” he yells through it. No response, just some clattering. Yamato flings open the door to see no one standing there. “What the fuck…” he curses, but before he can slam the door shut something grabs his leg. He looks down. Slumped against the wall, legs sprawled out long, is a very haggard, very drunk looking Taichi, grinning up at him. Relief floods him, as well as anger: <em>where, the fuck, has he been?</em></p><p>“Heeeey!” Taichi exclaims, drawing out the vowel. He tugs on Yamato’s sweatpants, trying to lower him to the ground. “Sit with me.”</p><p>Yamato stares at him. Behind the obvious drunken haze, Taichi looks like shit. He looks exhausted, dark circles around his eyes, sunken and shadowed. His skin is paler than the last time Yamato saw him; his hair messier, if possible, while still defying gravity. But he’s grinning with a glee only alcohol can provide.</p><p>“Are you drunk?” Yamato asks, although he knows the answer.</p><p>“Not just drunk,” Taichi laughs, shit-eating grin spreading across his face. He takes a swig of the open bottle of beer he’s holding, the second last of the six-pack he’s apparently been carting around.</p><p>Yamato takes a really good look at Taichi, who is still grinning up at him, waving at him to sit down. His usual vibrant eyes are bloodshot, barely focused. Glazed over. “What did you take?” Yamato asks him, keeping his voice stern, even though his entire body has seized up and he feels weak.</p><p>Taichi smiles at him and chuckles. “Nothing bad, you <em>prude,</em>” he teases. “Just smoked some weed. Your drummer—” he waves his hand dismissively, scoffing, “– wouldn’t get me anything better. Said you’d skin us both,” Taichi cackles. The laughter trickles on too long, Taichi immersed in a joke that isn’t that funny.</p><p>Yamato slides his back down against the wall, cursing Tomohiro. He crouches next to his drunken friend, eyeing him up, making Taichi meet his gaze. Concerned, he asks, “Taichi, where have you been? Are you okay?”</p><p>“Pfft, I’m excellent. Feel great,” Taichi grins. “Fancy a beer?” he slurs, offering the last of his haul to Yamato, who stares at the bottle. Taichi leans in, his whisper hot against Yamato’s ear: “Come on, have fun with me, Yama.”</p><p>Yamato takes the beer and cracks it open. He takes a swig, then places it next to him. “You’re acting like an idiot,” Yamato mutters, scowling at Taichi, who mimics the scowl. “Everyone’s worried about you.”</p><p>“Not everyone,” Taichi mutters back, chugging the rest of his beer. “But fuck that, I don’t want to talk about that. No Digital World drama. No Chosen.” He wags finger in Yamato’s face. Then, he lets out a long, hysterical giggle. The bottle clatters to the ground. Yamato scowls again. Laughing still, Taichi raises his right hand to brush Yamato’s hair behind his ear.</p><p>“You’re pretty when you scowl,” he teases. Yamato tries to ignore the jolt in his stomach at the contact and raises his hand to push Taichi’s away. Taichi intercepts the hand, lacing his tanned fingers through Yamato’s pale ones, causing Yamato to look down at their intertwined hands in surprise. Laughing, Taichi uses Yamato’s shock to his benefit: wrapping his other arm around Yamato’s waist and pulling him onto Taichi’s lap.</p><p>“Taichi,” Yamato pushes back, startled. “What are you—”</p><p>“Shush,” Taichi hushes him, raising a finger to Yamato’s lips. Yamato’s breath hitches and he swears he sees Taichi’s eyes glint a bit at the response. “I missed you.” Taichi’s finger traces his jaw and Yamato finds himself audibly responding to the contact. For a moment he forgets how pissed off he is at Taichi, and Yamato uses his free hand– the one not captured in Taichi’s– to grab the belt loop of Taichi’s jeans and yank himself closer. His face is inches from Taichi’s, and he hears a low growl escape the other teenager.</p><p>“I want you,” Taichi breathes, inches from Yamato’s ear. Yamato leans in and touches his lips to the side of Taichi’s neck. It’s at this point that the overwhelming smell of beer, sake, marijuana, and a hint of perfume all mixed together hits Yamato, snapping him out of the moment, and he abruptly sits up. </p><p>Yamato curses.</p><p>“What?” Taichi whines, trying to pull Yamato back to him.</p><p>“No,” Yamato shakes his head and slides off Taichi’s lap. “Not like this.”</p><p>“Yama…” Taichi slurs, cupping Yamato’s face with his hand. Despite himself, Yamato leans into the touch. “I want you.”</p><p>Yamato shakes his head again. “I want— Not like this. You’re wasted, you’re high, you’re hurting, you don’t know—”</p><p>“But I do know,” Taichi affirms, surprisingly forcefully. It’s enough to make Yamato pause. But the ferocity of the sentiment is ruined when Taichi hiccups, bringing his hand sharply to his mouth. Yamato looks at him and moves quickly to fling the apartment door open; Taichi stumbles up and through the doorway and disappears into the bathroom.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Forty minutes later, the worst of it seems to have passed. Taichi’s still slumped on the floor of the bathroom, Yamato crouching beside him, rubbing circles on the small of his back. Taichi hiccups, lifting his shirt to wipe his mouth. “You okay?” asks Yamato, handing Taichi a glass of water, which he uses to rinse his mouth, spitting the water back into the toilet. “Taichi?”</p><p>Instead of response, a bout of hysterical laughter escapes his friend as he sways forward. Yamato barely catches him, stopping his momentum before Taichi cracks his head on the porcelain.</p><p>“Hey… easy now,” Yamato warns. Yamato loops an arm around Taichi’s shoulders and eases him away from the toilet bowl, taking the glass back and placing it on the sink counter. He brings his other hand forward and brushes the brunet’s hair out of his face, revealing brown eyes, speckled with flecks of gold, and filled to the brim with tears.</p><p>“Taichi?” Yamato says, startled, not used to seeing his courageous friend blinking back tears. He feels thrown off– concerned, even fearful. Yamato lowers himself fully to the ground, pulling his friend towards him and into his chest, wrapping his arms fully around Taichi. “Taichi what’s wrong? Let me help…”</p><p>Taichi makes a sound against his chest, something of a mix between a hysterical giggle and a sob, and Yamato’s heart picks up the pace. He wouldn’t be surprised if Taichi can feel it through his shirt, given how he’s cradled against Yamato’s chest.</p><p>They sit there in silence for a long time. The silence is eerie, only interrupted ever once in a while by a muffled whimper. Yamato feels afraid to speak, fearing Taichi will just run out again if he says the wrong thing. Instead he just sits there, with his back pressed up against the bathroom wall, Taichi’s face tucked into Yamato’s shirt, shivering, and Yamato’s arms wrapped around his friend, fingers threaded through Taichi’s own. And he waits.</p><p>Finally, Taichi stirs.</p><p>“I don’t want to be this person,” he whispers into Yamato’s shirt, not lifting his head.</p><p>Yamato hesitates, unsure how to respond. He presses his face into Taichi’s hair, then, speaking directly into the brown cloud: “<em>This </em>person is the best I’ve ever known.” He squeezes Taichi’s hand, trying to convey how much he really means that.</p><p>“I can’t... It’s too much,” Taichi continues, voice raspy, “The things I’ve done– the decisions I’ve had to make…” The words are broken on the edges. Taichi’s free hand clutches at Yamato’s shirt, bunching it in his fist.</p><p>“I know,” Yamato whispers, his stomach in knots. “It is too much.”</p><p>“So… much time…” he whimpers, and Yamato can feel wetness through his shirt, “spent fighting monsters, I guess I just… just… became one... a monster…” Each word is punctuated with a sob. “He was right, he said…” Taichi gasps and his voice breaks off.</p><p>Yamato tries to not let his confusion creep into his voice, replying, fiercely: “You’re <em>not</em> a monster, Taichi.”</p><p>Shaking in Yamato’s arms, Taichi lets out another hysterical laugh, “She hates me, they all do. You all should.”</p><p>Yamato shakes his head, “I could never. Taichi, you’re so important to me. I– I need you.”</p><p>“I did terrible things…”</p><p>“<em>We</em> had no choice,” Yamato reminds him, putting all the emphasis he can on the word ‘we’. There’s nothing more important to Yamato than making him understand that they made that decision together: them and their partners. “You, me, Agumon, and Gabumon– we did that together. You’re not alone in this. You’re <em>never </em>alone. You always have me.”</p><p>“Dead… because of me…” Taichi whispers.</p><p>“Taichi, no, you did what you had to– we all did. I know that now. I’m sorry I didn’t realize earlier,” Yamato whispers, feeling his own eyes starting to well up with tears. “The virus would have destroyed her no matter what we did…”</p><p>“I shouldn’t be here…” he whimpers, slumped against Yamato’s chest. “I should have died there instead, Yama,” Taichi voice breaks and suddenly, he’s sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.</p><p>“I won’t ever let you,” Yamato whispers, gathering him into his arms, that all too-familiar sense of unease nesting in his stomach. <em>You have to be here, </em>Yamato thinks, tightening his hold around Taichi, <em>I need you.</em></p><p>Taichi doesn’t respond, just tucks his face further into Yamato’s chest and continues to shake. Yamato doesn’t say anything more, just clutches him tightly, and holds him while he cries.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Yamato’s not sure how long they sit there like that, clinging to each other on the bathroom floor. He’s willing to sit there for as long as it takes. Yamato holds Taichi as he cries, and as he does, he tries to sort through what Taichi’s been saying.</p><p>There’s something that’s not sitting right with Yamato– some subtext that didn’t quite make it through between the slurring and the sobbing. <em>What did he say? </em>Yamato thinks, as he runs his fingers through Taichi’s hair. <em>He should have died <strong>instead</strong>– instead of Meicoomon? </em>But that doesn’t make any sense.</p><p>Yamato turns it over in his head, playing back Taichi’s jumbled sentences over and over again, until it dawns on him: he doesn’t mean Meicoomon.</p><p>He means Nishijima.</p><p><em>Oh Taichi</em>, Yamato thinks, the staggering realization seeping in, an unwanted shadow. He feels nauseous and his body goes rigid; he has to quickly adjust his position, his hands clenching as the horror sets in, closing tightly around a lock of Taichi’s hair.</p><p><em>Of course– they both fell, </em>he thinks, feeling stupid, <em>and no one has seen him since. </em>He’d been so singularly focused on Taichi– on getting Taichi back, on how Taichi was coping, on where Taichi was, on how he, Yamato, can’t fucking breathe without him– he’d forgotten that Taichi wasn’t the only one who fell that day. Or maybe, in the back of his mind, he’d just assumed that Nishijima had gotten back the same way Taichi did and made his way back to the Agency, like Taichi had made it back to him– to them, to the team. Or maybe, he hadn’t really cared, the only thing mattering to him being that <em>his </em>partner is alive. Nothing else matters: Taichi is here. And alive. And with him.</p><p>In any case, he’d been too caught up in his own shock and grief to wonder otherwise. And it’s not as if the Agency actually ever tells them things– so they haven’t been in contact. He’d thought they’d have been busy containing the site of the last battle. To his knowledge, no one has seen or spoken anyone from the Agency since that night– <em>except that new agent, but he was cryptic as ever, </em>Yamato thinks, mindlessly. The Agency hadn’t checked on any of the Chosen– so they shouldn’t bother checking on any of them. It hadn’t been calloused to just assume. No one had really had reason to seek Nishijima out, particularly as school is still out– and there hadn’t been a chance to ask Taichi.</p><p><em>‘I</em> <em>should have died there instead, Yama’<strong>–</strong></em> that’s it: Nishijima must not have survived the fall. He’s dead. That has to be what Taichi meant. And if that’s true, it’s not just guilt over Meicoomon he’s dealing with, it’s guilt for somehow surviving, when their teacher didn’t.</p><p>Yamato’s arms tighten around Taichi. Yamato’s heart aches. He wants to gather this wonderful, vulnerable, boy up in his arms and just fix things. He’d give anything just to be able to soothe away the sadness. Simultaneously, Yamato’s more thankful than ever that he got Taichi back. That somehow– however, he doesn’t care how– Taichi managed, against all odds, to survive. That Taichi managed to come back to him. It’s even clearer now how close Yamato was to having to live in a world where Taichi didn’t exist anymore and having to live permanently with that emptiness– permanently void of that integral piece of himself.</p><p>Tears are unmistakably running down Yamato’s face now and he struggles to wipe them away without dislodging Taichi, who is still shivering in his arms. They stay like that for a while longer, until, finally, Taichi’s sobs subside and his grip on the bottom of Yamato’s shirt loosens. Yamato runs his fingers through Taichi’s hair a few more times, as he waits for Taichi’s breathing to even out a bit more. He blinks back the remaining tears that are in his own eyes, feeling exhausted.</p><p>“Let’s get up,” Yamato says, voice soft and carrying so much more than he can say aloud. “Let’s get you to bed…” He stands, holding Taichi under the armpits as he hoists him to his feet, unsure how out of it Taichi still is. Once standing, Taichi falls against him, still shivering, and Yamato loops his arm under Taichi’s to support him, managing to maneuver his drunk and emotionally spent friend towards his bedroom.</p><p>Yamato’s not sure if the support is more emotional or physical. Or, if he’s honest, which one of them needs it more.</p><p>Once in the bedroom, Taichi grabs onto a side-table to balance himself, waving Yamato off. Yamato watches closely, keeping his hands near, but Taichi seems to have his legs underneath him enough to stand on his own. Assured, Yamato turns to the closet, grabbing an oversized band shirt to replace the one Taichi’s wearing, which is covered in alcohol and god knows what else. His own is tear-stained and soaked through.</p><p>“Change,” Yamato says, gently, handing Taichi the shirt. Taichi reaches out for it, laughing as his hand swipes and misses the first time, before he manages to take it from Yamato.</p><p>Yamato means to turn around, he does– but Taichi reaches over his head before Yamato can do so and he gets distracted, finding himself watching Taichi’s back muscles ripple as he tugs his shirt off, thoughts getting lost amongst broad shoulders and muscles wrapped around tanned skin. Yamato’s gaze wanders lower, guiltily enjoying the view, when his eyes land on skin that isn’t tanned, but rather multicoloured, deep purple and dark red stains splattered all the way across Taichi’s lower back and sides.</p><p>“Taichi– what the fuck?” Yamato exclaims, taking a quick stride across the room, heart in his throat. He reaches out, fingers grazing Taichi’s side where giant garish dark blotches mar his skin.</p><p>Taichi looks down to where Yamato’s fingers rest before shrugging and yanking the new shirt over his head, pulling it down to cover the bruising. “What?” he responds, deadpan. “You thought I fell through the ground and came back completely unscathed?” Taichi barks out a bitter laugh. Yamato feels like his breath has been stolen from him as he processes the statement. “They’re only bruises.”</p><p>Yamato looks at him, incredulous. “But Jou checked– don’t they hurt? How did he not–”</p><p>“Can’t play injured,” Taichi interrupts, slurring over some of the words. “I’ve learned to fake it through medical exams.” He catches Yamato’s eye, holding his gaze, eyes soft behind the alcohol and marijuana haze. Taichi’s face is only a few centimeters from Yamato’s. It would be so easy to tilt his head and capture Taichi’s mouth under his, but Yamato stops himself, snatching his hand back.</p><p>“It looks worse than it is,” Taichi mumbles, as he stumbles forward and flops on the bed. Wincing as he watches, Yamato cups the back of his neck with one hand, trying to quell the emotional response raging inside of him.</p><p><em>He’s here, he’s alive, he’s with me, </em>he chants to himself, resurrecting the mantra from few days ago. <em>They’re just bruises... He’s fine. </em>His heart is pounding, but his attention snaps back to Taichi, as his jeans hit the ground as Taichi strips them off, sliding under the sheet. His head hits the pillow hard, no doubt exhausted from the evening’s emotional roller-coaster. Yamato knows he is.</p><p>“Okay, goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning…” Yamato says, softly, pulling off his shirt and tossing it on the desk chair. He flicks off the light, hand on the door to exit his bedroom and spend the night on the couch, safely away from any potential mistakes with his drunk best friend, with the bite marks on his neck.</p><p>“No, Yama,” Taichi mumbles, a hand falling outside the bed as Taichi reaches for him and flails. “Yama, stay… Please…”</p><p>Yamato pauses, torn. He does want to stay, even just to reassure himself. If he stays, he can keep Taichi next to him, he can stare at him and make sure he doesn’t disappear again. And yet… he shouldn’t. Not under these circumstances, not when Taichi’s this vulnerable and hurt and confused, beneath all the alcohol. He should go to the couch; they can sort this all out in the morning when they both have their wits about them, and they can put all the cards on the table.</p><p>“Yama…” Taichi mumbles again, half-asleep.</p><p>Yamato takes a deep breath and closes the door– the scared, desperate, part of him winning out. Crawling onto the mattress, Yamato arranging himself under part of the sheet, laying on his back beside Taichi. Within seconds, Taichi inches himself closer, lying on his side next to him, his hand sliding out to graze Yamato’s leg. Yamato hesitantly reaches out, placing his hand in Taichi’s. A tightness in his chest that he didn’t even realize was still there relaxes as Taichi’s body heat warms him. Yamato squeezes his hand; a soft hum escapes the boy next to him, but he doesn’t stir, already most of the way asleep. Yamato settles down on the pillow and closes his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of Taichi lying next to him.</p><p>And for the first time since Taichi fell, Yamato sleeps.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This week I learned about the statistics tab A03 has, which was quite fun. Apparently almost 40 of you have subscribed to this?! Crazy. Who are all you people? Are you hate reading this, irritated at me ruining characters, or do you enjoy my weird ramblings? I hope to one day write a chapter that compels you to drop me a line and tell me your thoughts. Maybe this Chapter is it?</p><p>Thanks for your continued reading! Glad to know you invisible 40 or so people are out there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. You and Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Additional warnings: one "NSFW paragraph" in the second section, if you care about that. Otherwise, this is reasonably fluffy. I felt like they (and we) deserved it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Nine: You and Me</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>“Across the highs the lows and the in between </em><br/><em>You and me we've got two minds that think as one</em><br/><em>And our hearts march to the same beat</em><br/><em>They say everything it happens for a reason</em><br/><em>You can be flawed enough but perfect for a person.”</em><br/><em>– You and Me, You+Me </em></strong>
</p><p>Taichi wakes the following morning to sunlight hitting his closed eyelids. The slice of light that breaks through the loosely closed curtains travels through the room, basking golden yellow glow in a triangle that smacks him in the face. He groans, shifting slightly to avoid the vexing light and his face brushes up against something soft. Cracking an eye, Taichi opens it to see Yamato’s face pressed close to his, so close his eyelashes brush against Taichi’s cheek as Yamato opens his own eyes. Taichi tries not to marvel too much at this development, as his gaze slowly travels up Yamato’s limbs, entangled with his own, beneath a single sheet. His eyes skim Yamato’s shirtless torso, pale skin contrasting heavy with Taichi’s at the point where his tanned arm is hooked possessively around Yamato’s waist.</p><p>“Morning,” Yamato says, when Taichi’s eyes focus on his. His lips curve in a smirk that Taichi find himself thinking about removing with his mouth. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>Taichi blinks. “Uh, I feel, okay, I think.” He pauses, confused. “You’re here.”</p><p>“It’s my bed.” Yamato arches an eyebrow.</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Yamato smirks again. This time Taichi acts on his impulse. He tilts his head, brushing his lips against Yamato’s in an attempt to wipe the smirk off his face. As their lips touch, Taichi’s grip tightens around Yamato’s waist, pulling their bodies together. For a moment the plan works: Yamato responds, slow and warm, and Taichi feels tendrils of electricity racing across his skin. However, it’s not long before Yamato pulls back, raking his teeth over his own bottom lip as he settles back down on the pillow, remaining tucked in the crook of Taichi’s arm.</p><p>“What do you remember from last night?” Yamato asks, softly.</p><p>“Uh,” Taichi stutters, trying to focus. Based on the throbbing in his head, the fact he woke up here, and that he’s now reasonably sure he’s wearing Yamato’s shirt, it couldn’t have been pretty. “I remember going out with some of the team. And a lot of drinks”– he winces at flashes of shot after shot– “and I remember needing to find you… I was a mess, wasn’t I?”</p><p>“Yeah, a bit,” Yamato murmurs, unraveling himself from Taichi’s grasp. The waistband of his sweatpants bending dangerously low as he eases himself to the side of the bed. Taichi watches his movements closely, entranced, as Yamato stretches his arms above his head.</p><p>“Come back,” Taichi whimpers, sitting up briefly to wrap his arms around Yamato’s midsection. Yamato laughs as he is pulled back onto the bed, and Taichi delights in the rare sound. He buries his face in the back of Yamato’s neck.</p><p>They stay like that for a few minutes before Yamato breaks the silence: “I was worried, you know. I called you. I <em>searched</em> for you.”</p><p>Taichi sighs, “I know. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“For which part?”</p><p>“All of it. Worrying you; not responding to your messages; disappearing,” Taichi murmurs, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, breathing in Yamato’s scent, “arriving at your door presumably pretty wasted; running out on you after…”– he pauses for a second, gathering himself– “after kissing you for the first time. Basically, for being an all-around idiot.”</p><p>There’s a long pause and Taichi finds himself holding his breath, waiting for Yamato’s next move. He lowers his forehead to rest on Yamato’s shoulder, but it’s quickly dislodged as Yamato stiffens and turns slightly to look at Taichi out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>“Any other idiotic things you want to tell me about?” Yamato snaps, his voice is tight. Eyes widening, Taichi freezes. “Like the hickey on your neck,” Yamato offers, tersely, as he turns his gaze away again.</p><p>“Fuck, Yamato, no– I mean, yes. Damnit, I don’t even remember…” he stammers, trying to think back through the last few days.</p><p>“It’s fine, Taichi,” Yamato says, sighing. He takes hold of Taichi’s arm and removes it, so he’s no longer captured. This time, he really does get up from bed, grabbing a shirt off the desk chair and pulling it over his head. Yamato turns to look at Taichi, eyes meeting for a few seconds before Yamato jolts his away. “It’s been… a strange week. We made– we… We’ll laugh about this later.” A pause, then, habits takes over, and he asks, “Breakfast?” </p><p>“Damnit, Yamato– no.” Taichi swings his legs out of bed, but Yamato has already opened the door and exited, moving swiftly towards the kitchen.</p><p>Taichi gets up, stumbling a bit on hungover legs. He grasps the wall to steady himself as the room spins, taking a few seconds to breathe in deep and get his wits about him. His head is throbbing, and his body feels like it’s been hit by a truck. Taking another deep breath, he straightens himself out and follows Yamato to the kitchen.</p><p>“Yamato,” Taichi says as he enters the room, “It wasn’t like that.”</p><p>“It’s fine, Taichi,” Yamato replies, again, opening up a cupboard and pulling out a skillet. The blond busies himself in the kitchen, an avoidance tactic Taichi’s experienced before. He shrugs, “I don’t know why I didn’t expect it. You went out with the team, of course you found some girls.”</p><p>“Yamato, I was drunk. Nothing happened.” It’s a poor excuse, and Taichi winces as the words leave his mouth.</p><p>“I’m not upset,” Yamato replies, in a terse voice that Taichi knows as a front. He throws open the fridge. “You’ve never kissed a guy before. And as I said, we’ve been through a lot this week. It was a mistake. We’re friends. Best not to ruin that, anyway.”</p><p>“I’d also never kissed <em>you</em> before,” Taichi asserts, moving to stand behind Yamato. “Yamato, that wasn’t some sort of spur-of-the-moment impulse. It’s not like I just acted randomly, like it had never crossed my mind before.”</p><p>Yamato continues to study the contents of the fridge, refusing to turn around to face Taichi. Reaching for Yamato’s wrist, Taichi removes Yamato’s hand from the fridge, and closes the door. He touches Yamato’s shoulder to gently turn the blond to face him. Instantly, Yamato folds his arms across his chest, looking everywhere but at Taichi.</p><p>“Putting aside the fact that I freaked out after, which was <em>unrelated</em>,” Taichi says, putting all the emphasis he can on the last word, “kissing you was electric. I can’t even describe it except to say that I’ve never felt so close, so in tune, so<em> in sync </em>with someone ever, doing anything, except for when… well, except for when we work together to create Omegamon. No one compares, no one could <em>ever</em> compare. Am I alone in thinking that?”</p><p>Yamato doesn’t answer aloud but he does shake his head, which Taichi takes an indication that he’s not alone in his assessment. Yamato still isn’t meet Taichi’s eyes, though; his gaze focused on studying the floor pattern.</p><p>“Yamato.” Taichi raises one hand, cupping the side of Yamato’s face. “Everything in my head is fucked up right now. I know this. I’m anxious, stressed out, and, admittedly a bit scared. I can barely sleep. Nothing in my life makes sense right now. Except you.” Taichi pauses, running a thumb across Yamato’s cheekbone. Yamato’s eyes flicker to look at him and Taichi meets his gaze, looking deeply into Yamato’s eyes. “<em>You</em> make sense. <em>This</em> makes sense.”</p><p>Yamato pauses, biting at his lower lip. Taichi finds himself holding his breath. It takes what feels like an eternity for Yamato to reply and Taichi counts every deafening heartbeat as he waits – one, two… three...</p><p>Four.</p><p>Five.</p><p>Six…</p><p>“It makes sense to me too,” Yamato replies, a lifetime later.</p><p>The words are uttered softly, barely heard above Taichi’s pounding heart and barely escaping Yamato’s mouth, before Taichi leans in to kiss him for a third time. Yamato hesitates only for a second, before his body surges forward to meet Taichi’s, lips soft and warm against Taichi’s own. <em>You. I need you,</em> Taichi thinks as he propels Yamato backwards, so he’s trapped between Taichi and the countertop. As his back hits the counter, Yamato moans against Taichi’s lips, mouth opening under his, intensifying the kiss. His hand slips into Taichi’s hair, his other hand running down his back. From there, the kiss quickly turns into something urgent, and desperate, and strong. When they finally pause for breath, Taichi find himself holding Yamato’s face gently in his hands.</p><p>“You and me,” Taichi promises, softly, “It’s always been you and me.”</p><p>Yamato wraps his arms around Taichi’s waist, pulling him in tight. “You have to talk to me, Taichi. You have to let me in.”</p><p>Taichi nods, his arms falling around Yamato’s neck. “Okay,” he says, hesitantly. Then, a bit stronger, “I will.”</p><p>“Don’t cut me out,” Yamato says, leaning further into the embrace, squeezing. “I want to be here for you, let me do that.” Taichi nods into Yamato’s shoulder, relaxing into his arms.</p><p>After a few minutes, Taichi leans back again, so he can look Yamato in the eye. “I’ll try,” he says, hoping the promise is good enough for now. For a second, it looks like Yamato is going to push, but then his expression softens and he just nods.</p><p>“Breakfast?” Yamato asks, after a moment.</p><p>“Bed,” Taichi responds, grinning.</p><p>Yamato snorts, “You’re turning down food?”</p><p>“Bed,” Taichi repeats. Moving his hands, Taichi breaks Yamato’s embrace and in what he wants to be a smooth movement– but turns out to be relatively shaky– wraps his arms around Yamato’s thighs and lifts him.</p><p>Yamato lurches forward, arms falling around Taichi’s neck in order to steady himself. “Taichi, put me down,” Yamato laughs, as Taichi starts to maneuver them towards Yamato’s bedroom. “I can walk.”</p><p>“That seems like less fun,” Taichi grunts, adjusting his grip in an effort to balance Yamato’s weight against him.</p><p>“You’re going to drop me.”</p><p>“Yes. On the bed.”</p><p>Somehow, Taichi manages to stumble through the open bedroom door; Yamato kicking it shut behind them, still laughing into Taichi’s shoulder. Taichi inelegantly drops Yamato on the bed, who wastes no time in pulling Taichi down to him. They kiss– initially a soft brushing of lips, but evolving into the mutual, mad fusing of mouths together. Yamato wraps his legs around Taichi’s waist and grips the back of Taichi’s shirt, pulling him closer into him, like he wants to swallow him. Taichi presses hard into him, gathering his taste, tongues tangling. This kiss is hunger. Deep, devouring hunger.</p><p>Taichi barely even feels the kiss. It’s as if a fire is scorching through him– igniting at their lips, and all he feels, all he smells, all he tastes, all he hears is Yamato. What the kiss ignites is wild, thorough, intoxicating, consuming– it chars the world around them; the world doesn’t matter when they kiss. It barely exists. It’s been narrowed to a perfect width: the two of them.</p><p>Hands find their way underneath Taichi’s shirt, and Taichi gasps, opening his eyes to glimpse the unfairly pretty blond beneath him. Their eyes meet– undercut with heat and intensity that pours over from one moment to the next– before Yamato tugs Taichi’s shirt over his head and discards it on the floor. He tilts his head, peppering kisses up along Taichi’s jawline, flicking his tongue to trace Taichi’s earlobe. Taichi moans in response, eyes closing in pleasure, and as he does, he wonders how– of all the roads he could have taken– he got here.</p><p>This is enormously different than anything Taichi has ever experienced. It’s a kiss, but it’s also more than that. His body feels fully charged. Energized. Connected. He’s decided that kissing your best friend should feel scary and unfamiliar, but this doesn’t: it feels instinctual. Like this is something they’ve done before. He recognizes the undercurrents– the harsh, biting, honest content that is their entire friendship. Their entire partnership. The raw intensity of synapses firing as one; memories of being strong, and brave, and powerful. It is also so intimate, in an unimaginably raw way. Yamato is demanding <em>everything</em> of him– as he always does– but he also <em>wants</em> him like nothing else and in ways no one else ever could.</p><p>How this gift managed to be in his future, despite everything he’s done, despite all the roads he’s taken, is a mystery. <em>There’s no way you possibly deserve this</em>, the malignant voice living in the back of his head whispers.</p><p>“Taichi,” Yamato murmurs into his ear, calling him back and shushing the voice. He loves the way his name falls from Yamato’s mouth; the way it anchors him and makes him his. He opens his eyes again and finds ocean blue ones staring back at him, searing into him; challenging to be here and only here. Taichi holds his gaze, unblinking, as he runs his fingers through Yamato’s hair and weaves a possessive hand behind his head. Then, Yamato arches up beneath him, mouths meeting in another searing kiss, and Taichi stops thinking about anything at all.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>In the afterglow, they’re lying on the bed, stripped to only their boxers, facing opposite directions, each of their heads resting on the other’s stomach. One arm each crooked at the elbow between them, fingers intertwined, Yamato tapping out chords on Taichi’s knuckles. Taichi tilts his head and smiles over at Yamato who blushes, further colouring his already flushed face, and adverts his eyes. Taichi reaches over with his unoccupied hand and smooths out Yamato’s hair, tousled from their earlier activities.</p><p>“Well that was…” Taichi murmurs, attempting to speak first, lest they spend eternity in silence.</p><p>“Yep,” Yamato answers, studying their hands.</p><p>Internally, Taichi laughs slightly at that– they’ve spent the last hour or so wrapped up in each other. Mouths exploring each other’s bodies. Hands tracing over skin, peeling back clothing. Fingers interlaced, never letting go for too long before rethreading. Emotions and sensations blurring, moaning and panting and murmuring obscenities against each other’s lips. Cocks rubbing against each other; Yamato coming fast and hard against him, his knees gripping Taichi’s waist tighter with every thrust of their hips as he bit down on Taichi’s shoulder. That was incredible and, goddamn, Taichi wants to do that again. And that was even before Yamato’s kisses wandered lower and Taichi got to find out how talented his best friend’s mouth really is– and now Yamato’s blushing and avoiding his eyes.</p><p>It would be so damn typical if it weren’t simultaneously so novel.</p><p>“Since when have you…” Taichi trails off again. Apparently, Yamato isn’t the only one struggling here.</p><p>“Since when what?”</p><p>Taichi bites his lip. He has a thousand questions, starting with asking how long Yamato’s felt like this, when this feeling flared up, and why Yamato never said anything, and ending with asking what this is, and where they go from here. But before he can find his voice and rouse the courage to ask any of those questions, Yamato’s phone rings. He knows it’s Yamato’s as the ring tone is some searing guitar rift and not just a vibration like any normal person.</p><p>“Ignore the phone,” he says, sighing, as Yamato lifts his head and reaches over to the bedside table. “Phones are evil.”</p><p>Yamato chuckles, but he sits up, dislodging Taichi from the comfortable spot on his stomach. “It’s Koushiro.”</p><p>“Why is Koushiro calling you?”</p><p>“Probably because you think phones are evil and haven’t answered in three days,” Yamato replies, sarcastically. Taichi feels a twinge of guilt. The phone rings for a third time and Yamato hits accept, lifting the phone to his ear. “Hey, Koushiro.”</p><p>Taichi spins himself around on the bed, so he’s facing the same way as Yamato, leaning back on the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. He has a lot of apology-making to do after he gets dressed, starting with Agumon. Speaking of… Taichi rips himself from his thoughts and tunes into Yamato’s conversation.</p><p>“Yeah, he showed up here last night. He’s still here.” Yamato is telling Koushiro, “We’ll come to yours to get Gabumon and Agumon and you can see for yourself.” A pause. “I haven’t mentioned it yet…” Another pause while Koushiro says something on his end. Yamato looks over at Taichi and raises one of his eyebrows. Taichi nods. “Okay. He says yes, we’ll come by later.” A pause while Koushiro replies. “Okay. Thanks, Koushiro.” He hangs up.</p><p>“Does everyone know I fell off the face of the Earth?” Taichi mutters and then instantly regrets his choice in words. While Yamato tries to quickly look away and shut down the emotions flickering across his face, it’s too late: Taichi’s already seen his face grow paler and his lips draw together in thin, straight line. When Yamato finally drags his eyes back to Taichi’s, there’s worry swimming in the back of those blue pools.</p><p>“I called Koushiro,” Yamato replies, “And I stopped by your place, so your mom may know you weren’t really staying here,” Yamato pauses, looking apologetic, “I lied, but…”</p><p>“You’re a terrible liar,” Taichi finishes. A tiny laugh escapes him.</p><p>Nodding, Yamato rolls onto his side to face Taichi. “I was worried. You… you ran out of here and that was terrifying. And you ignored me for <em>days</em>. So, yeah, between Koushiro and I, we called most of our friends to see if they had seen you.”</p><p>Mirroring Yamato, Taichi shifts onto his side as well. At the same time, he reaches out and threads his fingers back through Yamato’s, restoring their connection. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” he says, softly. He squeezes Yamato’s hand. The worry splashes and Taichi watches as a tiny wave glistens on the edge of Yamato’s eyelashes before he blinks it back.</p><p>“What happened? Where did you go…” Yamato asks, barely above a whisper.</p><p>Taichi stiffens. He almost pulls his hand back, but Yamato’s closes around it, holding on tightly. Their faces aren’t very far apart, resting on the same pillow, and Yamato’s gaze is once again searing into him. It’s claustrophobic and, all of a sudden, a sense of uneasy boils up inside of him. He bites down on his lip. Half of him is pondering how to avoid the question and begging for him to escape, the other half is urging him forward: he promised, he said he’d try. He owes Yamato this much.</p><p>“It wasn’t because of you,” Taichi starts, hesitantly, beginning with what he sees as most important. “I didn’t run because I kissed you– I wanted to do that. I think I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He pauses. His mouth feels unbelievably dry. Forcing the words out is like trying to dislodge something stuck in dried mud– the sentiment seems to get stuck in the residue that is seemingly coating his tongue.</p><p>“Same,” Yamato says, softly, buying Taichi a moment to gather himself.</p><p>“Same?”</p><p>“I think I’ve wanted to do that for a while too.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Taichi slides his face closer to Yamato, pausing to lick his own lips. “Since when?”</p><p>Yamato releases Taichi’s hand and jabs a finger against Taichi’s forehead, pushing the brunet’s head out of his personal space. “I asked you a question first. Answer mine and maybe I’ll answer yours.”</p><p>Taichi closes his eyes, steeling himself. <em>You promised him, </em>Taichi thinks. He draws a long-ragged breath in.</p><p>Then, eyes still closed, he says, “I had a panic attack, I think. I’ve had a few of them… since…” He pauses and swallows hard. <em>Since I watched my teacher die in front of me, </em>he thinks, but continues aloud with: “Since… everything... They’re like an electric current that rushes through me; it swells until I can’t breathe. I can feel it building, but before I can do anything about it, it hits me, and I’m overwhelmed by it...”</p><p>He opens his eyes again and sees Yamato still looking at him, eyes soft. It’s a bit too much, so Taichi drags his gaze away from Yamato’s before he continues, “One hit that day and I couldn’t deal. I just knew I needed to get a– outside…” He doesn’t mention the embankment. Or sleeping in the dirt. Or how long he was out there by himself; shivering until an officer shook him awake and encouraged him to move along. “I made my way home at some point, spent most of the time holed up there. A few teammates decided to drag me out the last two nights…”</p><p>Yamato’s hand comes up to frame the side of Taichi’s face and Taichi leans into the touch.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Taichi whispers, again. A few tears are filling his eyes now and he blinks furiously, trying to keep them back. “I’m sorry it happened then. I’m sorry I ran from you…”</p><p>Yamato’s thumb runs across Taichi’s cheekbone before Yamato leans in and kisses his lips softly.</p><p>“When you… fell...” Yamato says, hesitantly, as he draws back. “It felt like part of me was ripped from me. I wish I would have fallen with you, just so I wouldn’t have had to feel that. At least then we would have been together…”</p><p>Taichi freezes. Then quickly, “No. Fuck no. No…”</p><p>His entire chest has seized up at the thought of that. Of Yamato down there with them. <em>What would they have done? </em>he thinks, panicked. He can barely live with himself knowing he abandoned Nishijima there to die– he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he’d left Yamato behind. No, he would <em>never </em>leave Yamato behind– he’d knock the skinny blond kid on his fucking ass and load his unconscious body into the pod if it came down to it. Any other choice would be out of the question.<em> Otherwise Yamato might be… </em>he thinks, as all the images of that day flood back: a white shirt caked in a slick red substance; the soft glow of computer screens illuminating a solitary figure. Except this time, it’s Yamato’s face superimposed on that figure. If possible, Taichi’s mouth feels drier than before and that familiar thrum is surging in the back of his head.</p><p>And he feels like he’s going to throw up.</p><p>He must have gone eerily quiet, because the next thing he really processes is that a hand lands on his shoulder, shaking gently.</p><p>“Taichi?” Yamato’s voice is soft. He’s sitting up now, hand placed gently on  the curve of Taichi’s shoulder. Taichi blinks, drawing himself out of the dark hole his mind crawled into. Looking up at Yamato, he tries to re-establish eye contact as he pushes up to a seated position.</p><p>“No,” he repeats, unsure if he knows any other words anymore. His arms are around Yamato before he even notices what he’s doing. The hug is probably tighter than strictly necessary. “I— I’m glad you didn’t fall. I’m sorry you had to feel that, but… no. No. You were safe this way...”</p><p>“I just hate that you were alone…” Yamato’s arms tighten around him too, so maybe he isn’t holding on too tightly. “I hate that I was alone.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” is all Taichi can think to say. Running his fingers up and down Yamato’s bare back, he presses his face into Yamato’s neck and breathes in his scent, attempting to centre himself. As lost as he feels, <em>this </em>feels right. There’s comfort here– and as thankful as he is that Yamato wasn’t with him when he fell, he never wants to be separated again.  </p><p>“He died, didn’t he?” Yamato asks, suddenly, quiet-like, as if trying not to startle him.</p><p>Taichi stiffens anyway. “Who?” he says, dumbly. He knows exactly who, he just can’t voice it.</p><p>“Nishijima.”</p><p>He opens his mouth to reply, but no words come out, so he shuts it again, jaw clenching.</p><p>Yamato pulls back from their embrace so that his eyes can meet Taichi’s. “You– you said some things… last night…” One of Yamato’s hands finds his again. The other comes down to gently trace one of the bruises on Taichi’s side. “You said– I wondered– You said you should have died instead. You meant Nishijima, didn’t you? He didn’t survive the fall…” Taichi tracks Yamato’s eyes as they skim over his torso, settling on the bruises. Taichi frowns and tugs the sheet towards him, pulling it over his lap and around his waist so it partially blocks Yamato’s view of the bruising.</p><p>Yamato raises his eyes to Taichi’s, his face a tapestry of poorly concealed emotion– a touch of worry, frustration, sadness… fondness, all there if he looks deep enough. Definitely expectation. Taichi tries to think back to whatever conversation he and Yamato had. He can barely remember anything about last night, let alone what all he said. Which means he has no idea which pieces of the puzzle Yamato has put together. A huge part of him is reluctant to share everything– Yamato doesn’t deserve to have to live with any of this.</p><p>Finally, Taichi just nods, reluctantly. His cheeks feel wet and he blinks a few times, trying to keep more tears from escaping.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Taichi,” Yamato whispers, a solemn look clouding his face. Yamato’s arms close around him again and Taichi lets himself sink into the embrace. He’s not ready to talk about this– not fully anyway– but in a way it feels like a relief that <em>someone </em>said it aloud. It’s no longer just an unspoken nightmare: this tragedy exists in the real world. It’s no longer just his.</p><p>Yamato steers them back into the pillows and as they fall back, Yamato’s mouth meets his in a gentle kiss. As their lips brush, Taichi can hear the unspoken words, somewhere in their consciousness: ‘thank god you made it back to me.’</p><p><em>He might feel differently if he knew you sacrificed someone to be here, </em>that voice that questions everything good whispers and Taichi flinches, drawing back from the kiss slightly. <em>Shut up, </em>he thinks back, forcefully, <em>he’d understand, Yamato would… </em>They need each other here, no matter what. Yamato would understand, Taichi’s sure of it– <em>but, deep down</em>, the voice reminds him, <em>you’re not that certain</em>. Not enough to risk it, so he’ll stay silent. This is his burden.</p><p>He tries to shove away the voice, bringing his mouth back to Yamato’s, determined to soak up this comfort. Determined to be here and only here. He can feel Yamato’s need for assurance through each kiss. The desperation and relief. Yamato’s hands run up and down his arms and chest as if touch is the only way Yamato can be sure he exists.</p><p>“And…I think maybe since always,” Yamato says, when they break apart. Arching his eyebrow, Taichi props himself up on one elbow, lying next to Yamato, who continues to lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Taichi makes a questioning noise and Yamato shifts his gaze slightly to the left to look at him. “How long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” Yamato reminds him. “I think part of me has always wanted to. At least since we got Omegamon.”</p><p>Locating his voice, Taichi lets out a long, “Ah.” </p><p>“You’ve always felt like… mine,” Yamato says, softly, looking embarrassed.</p><p>Taichi hums his agreement. He knows exactly what he means. Their souls are linked. Every time they combine to form Omegamon, he feels that. Even lying here, he feels that. Separated from him, his soul ached, confirming that.</p><p>Rocking forward, he rolls over Yamato, until his weight is partly balanced on top of him and he’s lying between the other teenager’s legs. He lowers his mouth to his friend’s chest, planting a kiss on his collarbone. “Same,” he agrees, moving his mouth to hover above Yamato’s for a second, before capturing it under his in a hard kiss.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Taichi is starving. Any chance of a second set of fun activities was interrupted by his stomach growling, causing Yamato to laugh and push Taichi off of him. Pulling a shirt over his head, he’d quickly tossed Taichi some of his own clothing that somehow had taken up residence in the back of Yamato’s closet. Then, once in the kitchen, Yamato set himself about making the two of them an extremely late breakfast. Taichi hops onto the counter, his regular kitchen spot, watching as Yamato turns up the heat under the skillet to warm it and takes out a cutting board.</p><p>“Pass me two apples,” Yamato instructs, gesturing at the decorative bowl sitting next to Taichi. Obediently, Taichi hands Yamato two apples and then lies in wait as Yamato quickly washes them and starts thinly slicing them. As soon as Yamato slides the first sliced apple into a bowl, Taichi darts his hand over and grabs a slice, popping it into his mouth. “Patience,” Yamato snaps, with no real edge to it.</p><p>“Hungry,” Taichi whines, reaching again and grabbing another piece of sliced fruit from the bowl. Yamato slaps his hand away. Taichi laughs and tosses the slice of apple into his mouth.</p><p>Yamato continues cutting, silently, biting his bottom lip. His ‘I’m thinking complicated thoughts’ face creeping into view with every stroke of the knife.</p><p>“You think this is going to complicate things,” Taichi says with a sigh, before Yamato can.</p><p>Yamato pauses, knife poised over the apple he’s cutting. “I don’t want to lose you. This friendship is important to me.”</p><p>Taichi arches an eyebrow, then, teasingly: “Yes, your Crest insights are correct; this friendship is important to me too.”</p><p>Yamato scowls. He turns to face Taichi, knife tucked under his arm, crossing his arms. “I’m serious, Taichi. I don’t want to risk what we have by…” He trails off, but Taichi fills in the blanks: by adding this layer, by trying to be more, or trying to be something else.</p><p>“Me neither,” Taichi agrees, taking Yamato’s knife-free hand and pressing their hands together, palm to palm. Staring into Yamato’s eyes, Taichi threads his fingers through his friend’s, conveying the words without speaking– <em>I won’t let go, even if we both die. </em>Yamato closes his fingers in response, a small understanding smile crossing his face. “The friendship part is <em>always</em> going to be the most important. I mean,” Taichi grins, “two worlds depend on it, right?”</p><p>Yamato laughs and Taichi feels a happy chill travel up his spine. He <em>loves</em> that rare sound. He would move mountains for that sound. He’d defeat the Dark Masters all over again just to hear that sound.</p><p>“The way I see it, we’ve always been partners. Maybe this is just a natural progression. It’s not replacing anything.”</p><p>Yamato nods. “Okay,” Yamato agrees, softly, releasing Taichi’s hand. He puts down the knife and picks up an egg, cracking it over the pan.</p><p>“Besides,” Taichi murmurs, fingers brushing hair out of Yamato’s face before skimming the curve of Yamato’s cheekbone. “We just did some really non-platonic things in there, that I definitely want to do again.” He pauses for effect, then teasingly: “Turns out your mouth is good for things other than scowling and insulting me.” Taichi flashes a grin and Yamato scowls, as if emphasizing Taichi’s point. He brushes Taichi’s hand away and turns back to the task at hand, adding milk to the eggs.</p><p>“What, no compliments for me?” Taichi murmurs, ruffling Yamato’s hair which is met with a look of annoyance. Even though the light ruffle couldn’t possibly add to the whole tousled look Yamato already has going on. Taichi bats his eyelashes, and leans forward expectantly, resting his elbow on his knee and chin on his palm.</p><p>Turning, Yamato lolls against the counter as the eggs set. “Well, I will say, you are a pretty good kisser,” Yamato concedes and Taichi smirks. “But,” Yamato adds, dryly, face breaking out into a feral grin, “It <em>was</em> about time you were good at something.”</p><p>Taichi whimpers, hand coming to his chest feigning injury. He opens his mouth to reply, but Yamato captures it in a kiss and whatever comeback Taichi was plotting vanishes. Yamato smirks as he withdraws, taking that as a win, and Taichi silently vows his revenge.</p><p>“Let’s just keep it from everyone else, for now, until we know this works,” Yamato says quietly, adjusting the temperature on the burner and flipping the eggs.</p><p>Taichi tilts his head to the side, thinking, “Okay… if that’s what you want.”</p><p>“For now. Team first. Right, oh fearless leader?” Yamato teases him, winking. As he does, he grabs plates out of the cupboard next to Taichi’s head, he raises his palm to Taichi’s face, ostensibly for the purpose of moving it out of the way of the swinging door.</p><p>“Team first,” Taichi echoes, darting his hand around Yamato to steal another slice of fruit from the bowl. He grins before popping it in his mouth. Yamato rolls his eyes again– <em>one day they’re going to get stuck up there</em>, Taichi thinks. He puts the plates down and turns towards Taichi, who kicks out his legs to wrap them around Yamato’s torso, pulling him into the counter. He loops his arms around Yamato’s neck.</p><p>“So,” Yamato hums, resting his hands on Taichi’s thighs. “We’re really going to try this.”</p><p>“Looks like it.”</p><p>“We’re going to kill each other,” Yamato mutters, but he’s smiling.</p><p>“Maybe,” Taichi nods in agreement. “But we always come back to each other. It’s like we’re magically liked.”</p><p>Yamato rolls his eyes, “Sappy.” But he tilts his head upwards to kiss Taichi quickly. “I believe it’s <em>digitally</em> linked. Fused, one might say.”</p><p>Taichi laughs. “This is going to work, Yamato,” Taichi asserts, with confidence, and kisses him again. This kiss isn’t as brief; Yamato opens his mouth under Taichi’s and Taichi slips his tongue in, skimming over teeth and gums and that tiny patch of skin behind lips, exploring. Yamato’s muffled sounds of pleasure make Taichi’s skin tingle. When they separate, Taichi loiters, planting a kiss on the blond’s neck. As he does his eyes skim over the kitchen and he laughs.</p><p>“Uh, Yama.” Taichi grins madly, looking at the stovetop over Yamato’s shoulder. Yamato tilts his head upwards and arches an eyebrow. “Well, just saying, but… this <em>definitely </em>isn’t going to work if you burn my food.”</p><p>Yamato looks over at the stovetop. “Shit.” </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As I said: fluffy as Taichi's hair, with a side of the feels.</p><p>I didn't write the smut. It didn't fit. I don't think there will be much explicit sexual content in this fic - but maybe if I get ambitious (or extra bored) I'll write it as companion fics and post it to the site. I don't know. If there's interest maybe?</p><p>Edit: I wrote the explicit scene and it can be found here as a companion piece: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069743">Your Hand in Mine</a></p><p>Anyway, sorry for the two week wait. I was camping. Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner. Comments and kudos are appreciated and make my heart soar, as always!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Illusions in G Major</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Ten: Illusions in G Major</strong>
</h4>
<h4>
  <strong> <em>Yamato</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>“Doctor please believe me, I know you won't deceive me,, </em><br/>
<em> But do these things I'm seein', have any hidden meaning.</em><br/>
<em> It's all good entertainment and it doesn't cost a penny.</em><br/>
<em> So please doc, let me teach 'em, if I could only reach 'em.”.</em><br/>
<em>–Illusions in G Major, Electric Light Orchestra</em></strong>
</p>
<p>The act of getting himself and Taichi out of the apartment is an ordeal. Yamato probably should have seen this coming, as he’s basically given Taichi license to invade his personal space whenever he damn well wants to, but still– he’s been pushed back on the bed three times! He’s had to rebutton his shirt twice! It’s a miracle that his jeans have stayed zipped. He’s had to push that infuriating fluffy haired boy away from him <em>dozens </em>of times in order to finally steer him out of his apartment.</p><p>“You’re the one that took an eternity to fix his hair,” Taichi is grumbling, as they enter the ground floor via the staircase, “I got bored.”</p><p>A hand sneaks across his hip and Yamato jumps. “We’re <em>outside</em>,” he hisses.</p><p>“We could go back,” Taichi says with a wink.</p><p>Shaking his head, Yamato hides his smile by turning his face away from his friend and walking towards where his moped is parked. When they arrive, he hands Taichi the orange helmet, swinging his leg over the seat. Taichi hops on behind him. Yamato is strapping his own helmet on when he feels Taichi hands sneak around his waist, palms firm against the top of his thighs as he slides them downwards.</p><p>Yamato shivers. “Stop it, you insatiable monster,” he snaps, even he fights a tiny urge to drag Taichi back upstairs, “Outside. Public. Fucking. <em>Stop.</em>”</p><p>Taichi smiles into his shoulder. “Sorry, Yama, can’t help myself. I have a weakness for bossy blonds.”</p><p>“I wasn’t being <em>bossy. </em>I was trying to get us out of the apartment! You kept getting distracted and we need to get to Koushiro’s,” Yamato replies, exasperated, as he starts the engine.</p><p>“Oh, <em>I’m </em>sorry,” Taichi says, laughing, “I’m not the one who unbuttoned my shorts and used his hand to–”</p><p>“Taichi!” Yamato groans as he pulls away, Taichi still laughing into his shoulder.</p><p>He is definitely going to regret getting voluntarily mixed up with Taichi Yagami.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Laughter morphs into silence once they arrive at Koushiro’s office and are buzzed in from the street level. As they climb the stairs, the silence becomes downright eerie. Taichi follows behind Yamato, actually taking the time to place his feet on each individual step rather than rushing towards the destination. When Yamato sneaks a look at him, he’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes focused on the ground.</p><p>Finally, Yamato caves: “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Taichi’s head darts up. He shakes his head, offers one of his obviously fake smiles. “Oh. Nothing.”</p><p>Sighing, Yamato pauses on the staircase, twisting to lean against the railing whilst facing his friend. “Liar,” he accuses.</p><p>Taichi draws up short, then, gaze tilting to the ceiling. “It’s really nothing. Let’s just go see Agumon…” His voice trails off.</p><p>It clicks. “He’s not mad at you,” Yamato states, trying to sound reassuring.</p><p>Taichi nods. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further. “Maybe he should be,” he replies, slowly. “I’ve abandoned him– what, twice? In less than a week.”</p><p>There’s no one else in the staircase, so Yamato takes a step down so he’s only one above Taichi. “Hey,” Yamato says, reaching out and linking his hand with Taichi’s, “It’s going to be fine.”</p><p>Taichi looks unconvinced, worry lines that are becoming too characteristic of his face making an appearance. Yamato hates those lines. They make him feel anxious.</p><p>“And if not, we’ll bribe him with food, okay?” Yamato adds, and he’s rewarded with a sharp laugh from Taichi. Yamato smiles and tugs his hand, “Come on.”</p><p>They climb the rest of the stairs, Yamato only dropping Taichi’s hand when he pushes open the door to Koushiro’s floor. Taichi beats him to the office door, taking a deep breath in as the door wizzes open in front of him and they take the first step inside.</p><p>“Taichi!” an excited cry greets them. There’s a flash of orange as Agumon jumps off the nearest couch, clawed arms wrapping around Taichi’s neck as the Digimon lands in his arms. “I missed you!”</p><p>“I missed you too, buddy,” Taichi murmurs back. “I’m sorry…”</p><p>As Taichi’s arms tighten around Agumon, Yamato slips past in order to give the two of them the space to get reacquainted. He heads towards the couch on the far side of the room where Gabumon is sitting, nodding a greeting in Koushiro’s direction before flopping down next to his Digimon. Koushiro nods back, eyes crinkling as he watches their friend’s reunion from behind his computer desk.</p><p>“I’m glad you found him,” Gabumon murmurs.</p><p>“Me too,” he replies, scratching Gabumon right behind his horn. Not for the first time, Yamato finds himself wondering how much Gabumon knows, and if he does know, how much he understands. Offering him a soft smile, Gabumon nuzzles into his side and Yamato diverts his attention back to watching Taichi and Agumon.</p><p>Taichi’s crouched on the ground now, at eye-level with the orange dinosaur. Hands on the Digimon’s shoulders, rubbing up and down in a soothing manner. Agumon staring up at Taichi, eyes wide with love and loyalty and boundless understanding. Taichi looks like he’s smiling, face having relaxed considerably since they first entered the room. Both of their voices are soft, so Yamato can’t hear what they’re saying to each other. He can’t really imagine either, but he supposes that’s sort of the point– there’s things between Chosen and Digimon partner that are meant for them and only them. He and Gabumon know that maybe better than any of them.</p><p>“Have you informed him?” Koushiro says softly, peering around his monitors. Yamato jumps slightly at the intrusion, caught up in the scene in front of him, his emotions bubbling to the surface. He must take a beat too long to register what Koushiro is asking, as the red-head clarifies: “Takamasa. Did you tell him?”</p><p>Yamato tilts his head to look at Koushiro. “Didn’t get a chance to—” <em>was a bit distracted discussing, uh, other things, </em>he adds in his head “—and figured we could just tell him at the same time.”</p><p>Koushiro quirks an eyebrow. “Okay. Perhaps that is best.”</p><p>Yamato opens his mouth to reply, but his attention is diverted as Agumon lets out a delighted giggle. “Yamato!” Agumon squeals, as he scampers across the room. “Taichi says that you’ve promised us dinner tomorrow night.”</p><p>“I did?”</p><p>Gabumon perks up at Agumon’s declaration. “Oooh,” Gabumon says, “Sounds like fun.”</p><p>He’s screwed: Gabumon’s taken a shine to the idea, so he can’t very well say no now. He looks at Taichi, who is standing behind Agumon, eyes filled with mirth and mischief, obviously delighted in having successfully conned himself into a free meal. Sighing, Yamato nods, “Okay, yes. Dinner.”</p><p>Koushiro’s laughter is punctuated by his typing.</p><p>“You can come as well,” Yamato offers, feeling he should, although he wants Koushiro to say no.</p><p>Tentomon butts in before Koushiro can reply. “We cannot accept, unfortunately, Yamato,” he informs them, flying over to hover above the couch Yamato occupies, “We have a prior engagement.” Koushiro blushes, and Tentomon adds in a whisper, “<em>Mimi.</em>”</p><p>An empty oolong tea bottle flies over the computer screen. Tentomon veers to the left, narrowly escaping being hit.</p><p>Yamato and Taichi laugh, the latter giving Agumon’s head another scratch before wandering to stand behind Koushiro’s desk. “What are you working on?” Taichi asks, hovering over Koushiro’s shoulder.</p><p>Koushiro stops typing and swivels on the chair to face Taichi. “Working on sustaining the Gate,” he tells him, “I figured… after everything that happened, it would be nice if we could see the Digimon more often. As… they’ll have to go back at some point.”</p><p>Taichi smiles, “That would be nice, Kou.”</p><p>Koushiro blushes under the praise. Then, he gets up and, a bit sheepishly, wraps his arms around Taichi. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Koushiro says, before quickly letting go.</p><p>Taichi smiles and squeezes Koushiro’s shoulder.</p><p>Opening a drawer, Koushiro pulls something out before turning back to Taichi and shoving the object into his hand. “These are yours,” Koushiro says, before sitting back down at his computer hastily. “You left them here.”</p><p>Taichi lifts his hand and when he does, it’s obvious from Yamato’s vantage point what he’s holding: the goggles. “With any luck we won’t need these anymore. No more distortions,” Taichi mumbles, as he tries to put the goggles back down on the desk.</p><p>Koushiro raises a hand sharply. “Keep them. Check with Yamato, but I think it’s what artistic people call symbolism.”</p><p>Yamato laughs. “Exactly,” he confirms from his place on the couch, studying Taichi. There’s doubt in those brown eyes, derision and disbelief, as Taichi stares down at the goggles. Grateful to have someone bestow the goggles back onto him, but reluctant to accept them. Relief as well, that someone still believes in him.</p><p><em>'Over a fucking cliff,’ </em>Yamato thinks, when Taichi raises his eyes to meet Yamato’s, communication wordless.</p><p>Taichi’s eyes brighten momentarily in understanding before he closes his fingers around the goggles. “Thanks,” he says, words aimed at Koushiro but still staring at Yamato; linked, even in their silence.</p><p>Koushiro smiles and nods, resuming his typing.</p><p>“How long were you able to keep it open for Gabumon and Agumon?” Yamato asks, turning his posture farther to face Koushiro; Gabumon leans back into him. The Gate is critical to all of them– he can’t imagine having to go years again without Gabumon. Doesn’t want to imagine it. Especially as they just got them back– memories and all.</p><p>Koushiro pulls a face. “Only for about half as long as I hypothesized. And it was very unstable, I had to monitor it pretty closely,” he grimaces.</p><p>“Wait,” Taichi says, looking surprised. “You went to the Digital World?” His gaze floats from Koushiro to Yamato and back again.</p><p>“We didn’t,” Yamato clarifies, pointing to himself and Koushiro. “They did.” Agumon waves as if to accentuate his point.</p><p>Taichi’s face sours. “They could have gotten stuck,” Taichi says, slowly.</p><p>“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” Koushiro replies, firmly.</p><p>Taichi nods, but his face is still set in a firm line. It’s obvious Taichi is uncomfortable about something, but Yamato can’t read exactly what is lurking back there.</p><p>“How… How was it?” Taichi asks, finally, turning to look at Agumon.</p><p>Agumon looks confused. “It was… the same as always,” Agumon replies, looking over to Gabumon for support.</p><p>Gabumon nods in agreement. “Some of the landscape has changed since the reboot, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary,” Gabumon adds.</p><p>That answer seems to satisfy Taichi a tiny bit. “But you felt the Gate was more unstable than usual?” Taichi asks Koushiro. Yamato studies his face as he asks the question– there’s concern knitted across there, like his friend is turning something over in his head.</p><p>“It’s likely just the two worlds settling back into a rhythm,” Koushiro explains, but he arches an eyebrow in a confusion, before asking the question that Yamato also has on his lips:<br/>
“Why? What are you thinking?”</p><p>Taichi bites his bottom lip. There’s a pause before he opens his mouth again, and Yamato leans forward in anticipation of the answer. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Taichi says, finally, shrugging, “Probably just consequences of the reboot, as you said.” Taichi smiles. Agumon takes a few steps towards him and with a long stride, Taichi is once again crouched before him. “Just would suck if you left for home without me getting to say goodbye.”</p><p><em>You’re holding something back, Taichi</em>, Yamato thinks. There’s clearly something else going on in that fluffy head of his. He throws a quizzical look in Taichi’s direction, but it’s ignored.</p><p>Koushiro is also staring pensively at Taichi, lips pursed. “I’ll let you know how things progress with the Gate,” Koushiro settles on saying. More questions hang in the air, both Yamato and Koushiro holding back, afraid to push.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>Koushiro looks pointedly at Yamato, which Yamato takes as his cue to bring up the inevitable: The Agency. Yamato sighs, raking his hand through his hair, before saying: “There’s something else we need to talk about.”</p><p>“Okay…” Taichi says, looking back at them. He crosses his arms over his chest.</p><p>Koushiro fishes a business card out of his wallet and hands it to him. “This Agent approached us. He was looking for you.”</p><p>Taichi turns the card over in his hand, eyes scanning the name and title. “I see,” Taichi murmurs.</p><p>“He didn’t tell us anything. He was pretty adamant that he needed to talk to you, not either of us,” Yamato tells him.</p><p>“Any idea what they would like to speak about?” Koushiro voices the question that has been on Yamato’s mind for the past twenty-four hours. At the time, the Agent’s specific request to speak to Taichi made little sense to Yamato, but in light of the last twenty-four hours, Yamato has a better idea of what they need Taichi for: Nishijima.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, Taichi looks uncomfortable. For a few moments, Yamato is sure he’s going to lie or shrug it off, tell Koushiro he doesn’t know, but that he’ll call and find out. Maybe it’s the fact that Yamato already knows about Nishijima and Taichi’s resigned himself to the reality that everyone will know at some point; or maybe– Yamato wonders, briefly, before dismissing it– Taichi just trusts Koushiro more than he does Yamato, but Taichi opts for the truth, simply replying, “Nishijima.”</p><p>Koushiro’s expression is grim. “I suspected as much,” their mutual friend responds. “I was hoping I was wrong. He was a good man.”</p><p>Yamato nods his agreement. Nishijima did always try to help them. Maybe the Agency wasn’t always upfront with them, but there was something about Nishijima that felt genuine, like the man was truly on their side of things. As if he knew what the Chosen were up against and was trying to arm them appropriately. Unlike most other adults in their lives, Nishijima truly felt like an ally.</p><p>Stealing a glance directly at Taichi, Yamato sees a haze of something cross over his face. The uncomfortable look has departed, leaving Taichi just looking sad and reflective, haunted even. His fists are clenched at his side and his breathing seems to have kicked up a notch. Yamato feels his hand twitch and for a second he almost leaves his place on the couch to go to him, provide some sort of physical support. But he doesn’t, he stays grounded in his seat. Instead, he watches as Agumon presses himself further into Taichi’s leg.</p><p>“Yeah, he was,” Taichi responds, voice soft. He redirects his gaze from Yamato and Koushiro in order to stare down at Agumon.</p><p>“How do you want to respond?” Koushiro asks, attempting to redirect the conversation. “You– we– don’t owe them anything.”</p><p>Taichi sighs, rolling the card over between the fingers on his right hand, goggles clenched in the other. “One of theirs died, they want to know how and why. If it was one of us, we’d want the same,” he decides, ever their leader, “I’ll deal with it.”</p><p>And with that, Yamato watches as Taichi heads to the hallway. Head down and shoulders tense, Taichi fishes his phone out of his pocket and begins to dial as he walks through the door.</p><p><em>If it was one of us, </em>Yamato hears echoing in his head, that ill-feeling returning.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A few hours later, Yamato is pushing open the door to his band’s practice area. He can hear the steady beat of Tomohiro’s kickdrum before he enters the room, and the second he opens the door he’s greeted by Koji and Yutaka’s laughter.</p><p>Yamato and Taichi’s visit to Koushiro’s wrapped up pretty quickly once Taichi hung up the phone. He came back into the room looking exhausted, rubbing at his eyes, as he informed Yamato and Koushiro that he’s to go to the Agency’s office tomorrow to meet with Agent Takamasa. Not long after, Taichi made some excuse that got the four of them out of Koushiro’s office. Then, once on the street, he’d further excused himself from Yamato’s presence, using his hungover state as an excuse, and wandered off with Agumon, promising to respond to texts and to allow Yamato to accompany him to the Agency tomorrow.</p><p>Yamato would be lying if he said that watching Taichi walk away was easy. A needling, restless part of him is nervous, scared even. He knows Taichi means it when he says he’ll show up tomorrow, but it still feels like whenever he can’t see Taichi, it means Taichi’s <em>gone</em>. Like he’s lost him all over again, and Yamato really just found him.</p><p>He needs to stay busy. So, returning Gabumon to his apartment, he’s dragged himself to join his band at their regular Sunday night jam session, even though he had previously told them he wouldn’t be there. Anything to keep his mind occupied.</p><p>The first thing he does once arriving is unsheathe one of his song notebooks from his bag and bring it down hard on Tomohiro’s head. “What the fuck?” Tomohiro yelps, arms flying up to shield himself from a second attack. “What was that for?”</p><p>Yamato tosses the notebook down on the floor beneath his barstool, before hopping up on it and tugging the shoulder strap of his bass over his neck. “That’s for giving Taichi drugs, you idiot.”</p><p>“Yagami? Really?” Koji stifles a laugh from behind his keyboard.</p><p>“You didn’t see him, Yamato,” Tomohiro says, indignant, “He <em>needed </em>them.”</p><p>“What do you give him?” Koji asks.</p><p>“Just weed!” Tomohiro insists. “Nothing crazy. Figured Goldilocks here—” he jabs a thumb in Yamato’s direction, “— would be extra violent if I gave him anything stronger. Even though he’s no saint himself.” Tomohiro grins and Koji joins in.</p><p>“That’s <em>beside </em>the point,” Yamato grumbles, glaring at Tomohiro.</p><p>“Guys,” Yutaka snaps, as he strums a cord on his guitar, “Stop talking about the straightedge soccer captain’s fall from grace and let’s get to work.”</p><p>Yamato’s eyes narrow significantly at Yutaka, pulse quickening at the word ‘fall’, but he begrudgingly adjusts the microphone in front of him.</p><p>“Let’s run through the new one,” Yutaka instructs.</p><p>The other three nod, and Yamato flips to the right song in the notebook, finding the new love song he and Yukata had been messing around with for the past little while– before the first Alphamon appearance, when Yamato, justifiably, got a bit distracted. He glances over the first few lines, refamiliarizing himself with the lyrics, stopping skimming when he gets to the chorus, where he reads the pronoun-specific affirmations over a few times.</p><p>He barely suppresses his chuckle.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They run through each song dozens of times before, finally, Yutaka seems satisfied. Only then, does he relent and the four of them begin to pack up their stuff. Yamato is shoving things back into his guitar case, arguing with Tomohiro again, when Yutaka interrupts.</p><p>“Oh, hey, before you all leave,” Yutaka says, “The venue from our cancelled show came back with a new date. Last Friday of the month.”</p><p>“Awesome!” Koji exclaims. Yamato and Tomohiro nod their support.</p><p>“Hold on.” Yutaka waves them quiet, with a flip of his wrist, elaborate silver wristband catching the light as he does. “There’s more. The manager of the band who was supposed to headline that night also asked whether we’d want to do a small tour– ten days, seven shows. Different cities.” He grins. “Apparently a band dropped out and he thought we’d be a good replacement.”</p><p>“Hell yes!” Tomohiro says, letting out an excited whoop. His and Koji’s hands connect in a hard high-five.</p><p>A face-splitting grin continues to grow across Yutaka’s thin face, and he leans over to high-five Koji as well. Excitement overtakes the three of them and it’s a few minutes before they realize Yamato has yet to say anything.</p><p>“Oi, Yamato,” Yutaka says, his hand returning to his side after high-fiving Koji for the hundredth time. “This is great. What do you say?”</p><p>“Uh,” Yamato says, stupidly.</p><p>Koji looks flustered. “Yamato! This is a big deal for us.”</p><p>Yamato opens his mouth to say something back, but he’s not exactly sure what words should come out. His bandmates stare at him, bewildered, waiting for him to join in on their celebration. And he gets why, for years he’s been the one pushing the band the hardest. He broke up the Teenaged Wolves because he outgrew them– and the name– and wanted to get more serious. He’s driven the band crazy over the last year, rewriting songs dozens of times, drilling the music into them, fussing over lyrics and time signatures. Insisting on taking local gigs pretty much every weekend. Schoolwork, sports, holidays, all came second to the band. Fuck, even the Chosen– even Taichi– have been less of a priority than the band. The band has come first, before everything.</p><p>He’d pushed for this. He’d <em>wanted</em> this.</p><p>Pushing for this also splintered everything. His friendship with Taichi has been more strained and distanced, prior to the latest Digital World events, than it has ever been<em>– since, well, the whole, confront your rival incident, way back in the day</em>, he thinks, ashamed<em>.</em> <em>And we weren’t really friends then</em>. The splintering was the real problem. That loss of connection, that feeling of completeness. He’d pushed all of that aside. That’s what scared him the most when Omegamon broke apart. It hadn’t felt, at the time, like Taichi had doubts in himself, but rather that he doubted Yamato. They’d drifted apart and their partnership had paid the price.</p><p>And he just got him back. More than back.</p><p>“Yamato!” Yutaka essentially shouts, which breaks Yamato out of his thoughts. He realizes he’s been quiet for too long, as all three of his bandmates are staring at him, perplexed and slightly irritated.</p><p>“Can I think about it?” Yamato says, finally.</p><p>“Think about it?” Yutaka repeats, like it’s the strangest request in the world.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“They want to know soon.”</p><p>“Okay,” Yamato replies, numbly, “I’ll decide soon.”</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Yukata insists. Yamato nods.</p><p>“Don’t ruin this for us,” Koji hisses, dark eyes narrowing in irritation.</p><p>Yamato glares back. “I just need a day to think.”</p><p>“Fine,” Koji mutters, picking up the last of his stuff. He points an accusatory finger at Yamato: “I want this. Don’t ruin this.” He storms out, Yutaka closely on his heels.</p><p>Tomohiro is slower to leave, moving his drum kit to the side of the practice area, before throwing his drumsticks in his bag. They pack-up the rest of their equipment in silence, Yamato staring at the floor trying to melt it under his gaze. Before long, Tomohiro is standing at the door. He lets out a long, exasperated whistle, which draws Yamato’s attention.</p><p>“Weird week,” he says, when Yamato meets his eye. “Yagami needs a fix and you are reluctant to leave on a tour.” He arches an eyebrow. “Something going on with that friend group you don’t talk about?”</p><p>Yamato glares.</p><p>Tomohiro sheepishly raises his hands in a defensive manner. Then, he laughs, shaking dark, slightly blue, hair out of his face, and opens the door. “See you later, Yamato.”</p><p>The door closes behind him and Yamato breathes a sigh of relief. Unhooking his mic from the stand, he starts wrapping the cord up, grateful to be alone, at last. He regrets coming here.</p><p>The relief lasts barely a minute, as the door reopens. “Oi, Yamato,” Tomohiro says, poking his head back into the room. He wiggles his thick eyebrows. “Takenouchi is out here waiting for you. Might want to hurry up.” His voice lowers suggestively at the last words, then lets the door fall closed behind him again.</p><p>Yamato shoves the microphone in his bag and hoists his guitar case over his shoulder.</p><p>
  <em>Sora. Fucking perfect. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>There was a point, not even that long ago, when Yamato looked at Sora and he’d marvel at her. She’s grown up beautifully– he’d be blind not to acknowledge that. No longer that tomboyish girl hiding behind a blue helmet, she’s grown prettier; trim, fit, long legs, and elegant lines. She’s lovely, inside and out; big heart, endless good, and boundless kindness.</p><p>They’ve tried to be together on and off since they were fourteen, and again more recently. It’s seemed like the right thing to do; friendship and love, and all that bullshit. She’s wonderful, Sora is– and he’s tried to convince himself that she makes sense for him. In so many ways she does: they’ve been through everything together. She understands him. They’ve seen the same darkness; they’ve shared the same doubts. It would be a fairy tale, really: teenage boy realizes the girl next door was the one all along.</p><p>Right now, they’ve gone for a walk, detouring to a nearby park, his guitar still slung over his shoulder. Sora pulls off to sit down and Yamato follows, leaning the guitar case against the bench. Once sitting, he waits for her to start talking, digging out a cigarette from his pack in the meantime. He turns slightly away from her, shielding the cigarette from the slight breeze.</p><p>“When did you start smoking again?” Sora asks, breaking the silence when she hears the lighter click.</p><p>Yamato takes a drag off the cigarette. “About the same time my best friend fell through a hole in the ground,” he replies, exhaling the smoke away from her. He turns back to her and waits for further criticism.</p><p>It doesn’t come. Sora just purses her lips. “How is he?”</p><p>Yamato shrugs. <em>Terrible, lost, haunted, </em>he thinks: Taichi shouting–throwing his goggles down–hissing at him to not touch him–running out the door–being slumped on his bathroom floor, sobbing– it all runs through his head.  “Not good,” he settles on.</p><p>Sora looks up at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. Something on his face must indicate he’s not going to, as she just nods. “How’s your jaw?” she asks, reaching out with slim fingers to touch the side of his face.</p><p>“It’s fine,” he says, trying not to jolt away from the touch. “Tender, but he’s hit me harder before.”</p><p>She cracks a small smile at that, shaking her head at him. Her hand falls back into her lap. “Idiots.”</p><p>He manages a chuckle as he takes another drag off his cigarette.</p><p>“Mimi and I went to the hospital to visit the younger kids– everyone is awake, finally,” Sora says, softly. “They seem okay, although they say they don’t remember much. Daisuke might, but he, of course, wants to talk to Taichi.” She pauses. “Hikari and Takeru have been there a lot.”</p><p>Nodding, Yamato adds, “Takeru told me.”</p><p>“She’s really angry, Yamato.”</p><p>He takes an angry drag off his cigarette before exclaiming, “I don’t get why. She has no right to be.”</p><p>Sora looks at him. “Hikari’s entitled to her feelings, Yamato.” The way she says his name is jarring, it’s not quite accusatory, but it is critical.</p><p>“He saved my life and Meiko’s, almost gave his in exchange, came back when we all were on the verge of watching our world be destroyed thanks to <em>her</em> Digimon fusing with Meiko’s corrupted Digimon– as a direct consequence of her <em>grief</em>, I must add– and is the only reason we succeeded and are still here.” He pauses, draws in a ragged breath. “And <em>she’s </em>angry with him.”</p><p>Sora looks pained. The way he’s put it is crass and maybe slightly cruel, but it’s also the truth<em>. </em></p><p>“Honestly, I’m angry with her,” he mutters.</p><p>“We need to be united,” Sora says, rather than addressing his comment directly, “We can’t turn on each other like this. We have to take care of each other. We’re one team.”</p><p>Yamato meets Sora’s eye and then just as quickly look away. He knows she’s right. It’s just usually Taichi’s job to say so. The emptiness inside Yamato grows tenfold.</p><p>“We’ve always trusted Taichi,” Sora whispers, “He holds us together. Always has. We need him now. Otherwise, I feel like this team’s about to splinter.”</p><p>Yamato takes a last drag off his cigarette before snuffing it out on the bench. Sora shifts closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. He lets her and they sit in silence for a long time. Her, quiet and worrying; him, inhaling smoke, empty and anxious.</p><p>Finally, Sora speaks again: “I feel like I haven’t had fun in a while. You and I should do something fun. Movie?”</p><p>He tilts his head back on the bench to look up at the sky, dark and silent above them. “No,” he says, softly, “I can’t keep trying this.”</p><p>There’s always been something missing.</p><p>He almost lost everything; these illusions just aren’t enough anymore.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ten chapters in. Wow. I can't thank people enough for the response to this. I love all your comments so much and I hope they continue -  hearing your thoughts is cool, particularly now that we're getting into more plot/mystery. Would love to hear again from those of you who commented on earlier chapters. Hope you're all still along for the ride. Anyway, thanks!</p><p>A few notes with this chapter:</p><p>1) This chapter required me to do research. Tri's timeline is confusing as fuck. I've made my own timeline for the purposes of this story. (I actually wrote it down!) It required me to look at a calendar of 2005 and learn about Japanese school years, the latter of which I'll probably still fuck up. Though, shockingly "cultural festival" was an identifiable date (roughly) and allowed me to pin down approximate-still-likely-wrong dates. #academicresearch </p><p>2) It's unclear to me whether it's ever made known to our Chosen that Daigo/Maki were part of the original Chosen. I'm pretty sure no - this was made clear to the viewer, but not to Yamato, and folks. We're operating on that presumption. Feel free to correct me, although it'll delay chapters, so you'll only have yourself to blame. </p><p>Edit: okay I just went back and watched Future again as I iron out some parts of the next chapter and apparently Nishijima did tell taichi, just none of the others. So this chapter works still, but minor adjustments in my narrative going forward. </p><p>3) I have zero idea if Yamato's band members have canonical names. I couldn't find them. So, I made them up based on other stories I've read and based their descriptions of photos on google. Again, research. </p><p>Anyway, cheers folks!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Of Monsters and Heroes and Men</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter specific warnings: panic attacks, jerks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
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    <strong>Chapter Eleven: Of Monsters and Heroes and Men</strong>
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  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
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  <strong> <em>Either way, I’m in awe of you. </em><br/>
<em>Either way, we’ll survive. </em><br/>
<em>Conjuring devils, angels and demons </em><br/>
<em>Only the children see shape to his tone </em><br/>
<em>Laughing and crying, his song fell upon us </em><br/>
<em>We buried his treasure along with his bones. </em><br/>
<em>– Of Monsters and Heroes and Men, James</em></strong></p>
<p>
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</p><p>“Agent Takamasa’s office is on the forty-first floor. The elevators are behind you and to the left, however this agent will escort you,” the secretary says, gesturing to a man standing at the side of the desk. She nods, dismissing them, and Taichi and Yamato back away.</p><p>
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</p><p>The agent gestures for them to follow, walking straight towards the elevator and pressing the call button. As they wait, Taichi already starts to feel small prickly tremors course up and down his body—he finds himself looking around, looking for an exit or alternative route. <em>An escape</em>, his traitorous, cowardly minds thinks. But before he can protest, the elevator dings and the doors open. After some workers file out, the unnamed agent steps in, along with three other suits. Yamato moves forward, looking over his shoulder at Taichi. He pauses, waiting for Taichi to make a move.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Let’s go,” the agent says, gruffly. He holds the door open with his arm to disapproving looks from the other passengers. The elevator dings, impatient to get going. “Get in.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi forces himself to take that step into the elevator behind Yamato. Quickly, he moves into the corner, hoping that he can fade into the background and avoid drawing attention to himself. The door closes, and instantly his heart begins to pound loudly in his chest, so loud he can’t hear anything but the stress of his heartbeat. The elevator jolts to begin its ascent and Taichi bites back a whimper. Now effectively trapped, Taichi directs all his energy into trying not to freak out.</p><p>
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</p><p>It’s not a glass cylinder that surrounds him but being trapped by the four metal walls is similar enough that his mind is beginning to bubble over in panic. He closes his eyes, balls his hands into fists—so tight, his fingernails start to cut into his palms—and clenches his teeth to hold back the harrowed moan that threatens to escape.</p><p>
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</p><p>All of Taichi’s concentration is aimed at trying to still his persistent shivering, when a hand reaches out and pries his fingers open, threading its own fingers through his. The movement startles him and his eyes fly open, glancing down to see Yamato’s hand now intertwined with his own. He looks up to find blue eyes staring at him, drawing him in, whispering <em>it’s okay, I’ve got you. I won’t let go. </em>The gesture edges him back towards reality. Taichi keeps his eyes on Yamato, concentrating on the feeling of his hand in Yamato’s, the way their fingers brush, how their palms press against each other, and how there’s a sense of calm that seems to radiate from the embrace.</p><p>
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</p><p>When the elevator glides to a halt to let people file in and out, Taichi bites back another whimper. Yamato takes a step closer, whispering, “Just twenty floors to go. I’ve got you.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Despite the other people in the elevator, Taichi leans in, still shivering, using Yamato’s shoulder to steady him. Taichi’s grip on Yamato’s hand tightens, clawing into it. He can see Yamato’s jaw clench, but Yamato doesn’t let go and keeps looking at Taichi, silently reminding him: <em>never going to let you go. </em></p><p>
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</p><p>“Nine more floors,” Yamato whispers, eyes never leaving Taichi’s, “Almost over.” More people get out and then the door closes again. Yamato squeezes his hand and more of the panic seems to dissipate. Taichi can feel it still, but stronger yet is Yamato’s presence.</p><p>
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</p><p>When the elevator finally stops at the forty-first floor, Taichi bolts from it. He rips his hand from Yamato’s, essentially pushing past another passenger to get outside the metal chamber. Pressing his hand up against the hallway wall, he leans against the wall, panting as he fights to regain his breath. Yamato is at his side instantly, hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.</p><p>
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</p><p>The agent, who has only paid them mild attention until this moment, turns to them. “This way now,” he prods.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Give us a second,” Yamato snaps, voice ice. His eyes narrowing in frustration at the agent, before turning back to Taichi: “Hey, you’re okay. We’re okay. Take all the time you need.” His hand still rests on Taichi’s shoulder and Taichi concentrates on the point of contact between them, trying to relax into Yamato’s touch.</p><p>
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</p><p>After a minute, Taichi pulls himself upright and nods at Yamato. “I’m okay now… Thanks…” he says, softly, offering Yamato a small smile. Yamato’s face remains rigid, unconvinced, but Taichi pushes off the wall, walking towards the agent. His heart’s still racing, but he walks through the door the agent is holding open: he has a job to do.</p><p>
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</p><p>The agent points at a couch in another waiting area. “Sit,” he instructs, “Agent Takamasa will be with you shortly.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Short is not the word Taichi would use to describe this wait. The appointment is for 9 a.m., but the clock hands have past that particular positioning and, meanwhile, Taichi’s stuck on the receiving end of Yamato’s glare, as his friend wordlessly wills Taichi to stop fidgeting. He can’t though. Bouncing his knee up and down keeps his anxiety in check and ensures he doesn’t yell at someone that in the fifteen minutes this agent has kept them waiting he surely could have climbed those forty-one flights of stairs.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Taichi, calm down,” Yamato whispers from beside him. Tearing his eyes from the clock, Taichi turns to meet Yamato head on, glare for glare. Their eyes lock, and whatever is in Taichi’s eyes causes Yamato to clench his jaw and advert his eyes. It effectively shuts down Yamato’s protest—and Taichi continues to fidget.</p><p>
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</p><p>Finally, the door opens and an agent steps through into the waiting room. Taichi pulse skips as he recognizes the agent from the park. He’s wearing a suit again, although he’s forgone the suit jacket and has pushed the sleeves of his white dress shirt up to his elbows. Almost comically, he’s still wearing sunglasses pushed up on his head, perhaps trapped in the gel that holds every strand of the agent’s meticulously styled hair in place.</p><p>
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</p><p>The agent strides towards them. “Mr. Yagami,” he says, the corner of his lips lifting in the barest of smiles before returning to a neutral position. He offers a hand which Taichi stands and takes, finding his hand clasped in a strong, rugged grip. “Agent Akira Takamasa. Thank you for agreeing to come in.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Taichi replies, bowing his head. “We’re happy to assist. This is—”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yamato Ishida,” Takamasa finishes, “Yes, we’ve met.” He extends his hand to Yamato, who takes it and dips his head politely. “Alright, sorry to keep you waiting. Mr. Yagami, if you could just follow me this way. Mr. Ishida, you’re welcome to wait here, just let my secretary know if you need anything—water, coffee, anything.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Oh,” Taichi adds quickly, “Yamato can come along…”</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa frowns. “It’s procedure to conduct interviews one-on-one, however if we need Mr. Ishida to corroborate anything you say, I’ll certainly send someone to retrieve him. This way, please.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa turns without pausing. Taichi looks to Yamato and mouths an apology, as he starts to follow Takamasa through the door. Yamato shakes his head, already sitting back down on the couch, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and placing his chin on knitted fingers. As the door swings closed to separate them, Taichi can not only see but feel the concern radiating off Yamato and Taichi suddenly feels very alone.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Take a seat.” Takamasa gestures to a chair, as he walks around to the other side of his desk, easing himself back into his own chair. He takes the sunglasses off his head and tosses them down on the desk, adding one piece of clutter to an otherwise spotless working area. Then, he opens a red folder and holds a pen to the page as he scans whatever is written there. “It says here that you are considered in charge”—he arches an eyebrow skeptically—"of this group of ‘Chosen’.” He lifts one hand, adding air quotes around the last word.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Um,” Taichi says, dumbly. “I suppose some might say that… We’re a team.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa makes a note on the page. Taichi cranes his head to try to see what he’s writing, but Takamasa leans back in the chair, tilting the folder to an unreadable angle. “The Agency has been very busy cleaning up the damage you caused by the river, but you can rest assured that our communications branch is ensuring that this is portrayed as a military success. Your <em>team</em>,” he continues, stressing the last word with what Taichi thinks is a hint of sarcasm, “shouldn’t be implicated.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi stares at him. “Thank you. I think.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa nods. “Now, we do have a few questions for you before we can close our investigation. So, if you don’t mind walking me through a few of the events leading up to last Tuesday—"</p><p>
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</p><p>“He’s dead,” Taichi blurts out. The words tumble out of his mouth before he can really think about it, landing with a thud on the table. Taichi’s entire body seizes up and he has to force himself to take a steadying breath.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Pardon?” Takamasa says, staring at him, pen frozen in the air above the folder.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Nishijima,” Taichi says, trying to keep his voice steady. “That’s—that’s what you want to know, isn’t it? He died.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa puts the pen and folder down on the desk. He then clasps his hands and lays them over the folder, as he straightens his posture in his chair. “Taichi,” Takamasa says, his voice suddenly considerably softer, “With these sorts of missions, particularly when they involve displacement of the public and considerable hospitalizations, there’s always a chance that someone… slips through the cracks.” Takamasa frowns and his brow furrows. “Emergency services were overwhelmed, and the injured have been shipped to surrounding hospitals as Tokyo’s own became overwhelmed. The Agency has been following up, but if his injuries were significant or he’s unconscious, and he’s without identification, perhaps we just haven’t… located him yet. We shouldn’t draw these conclusions until we’re certain. There’s always hope.” The corners of Takamasa’s mouth lift an attempt at a reassuring smile.</p><p>
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</p><p>“I am certain,” Taichi insists, clenching his fists and leaning forward towards the desk.</p><p>
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</p><p>“How? I understand most of your team returned separately from you, but what does that—”</p><p>
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</p><p>“I saw him die.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa freezes, the pitiful attempt at a smile falling away quickly. “Forgive me Taichi, but I don’t understand…”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi swallows hard. “I know he’s dead because I watched him die. He died in an explosion. In the Digital World. One that almost killed me and four more of my friends who we found there, unconscious.” Taichi finds his voice raising in pitch. His heart’s racing. “Four of my friends—I should add— who were missing! And in danger. And you and Mr. Nishijima and Himekawa and everyone else that works here hid that from us!” The last sentence comes out rushed as Taichi’s voice breaks.</p><p>
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</p><p>Wordlessly, Takamasa reaches beneath his desk, and pulls out a water bottle from a mini fridge that’s tucked under there. He hands it to Taichi, waiting quietly as Taichi twists off the cap and drains half of it.</p><p>
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</p><p>“That’s why I know he’s dead. I was there. I watched. I <em>let</em> it happen,” Taichi adds when he pulls his lips off the bottle. He clutches it in his hand, the plastic crinkling in his grasp.</p><p>
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</p><p>“And Maki—Agent Himekawa—did she die there too?”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi stares at him, confused. “No, sir—I don’t know. She wasn’t there.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Okay,” he sighs, heavily. He looks as if he’s trying to gather himself.</p><p>
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</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Taichi adds quickly, before Takamasa can speak again.</p><p>
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</p><p>“You’re sorry?” Takamasa repeats, frowning.</p><p>
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</p><p>“That I let him die,” Taichi clarifies, looking down at the ground in shame.</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa’s eyes widen slightly. He pauses, then, shaking his head: “Taichi, from what you are saying there were six individuals that could have perished in an explosion and you managed to return five of those six people to safety.” He leans forward, speaking slowly, but firmly. “It is never easy to lose someone on a mission. You never get used to that. <em>Ever.</em> But most agents would consider this mission a success, albeit a bitter one.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi frowns, clenching his hand tighter around the water bottle.</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa notices his hesitance. “I know that means nothing now, and I am truly sorry you had to experience what you did, but in time you’ll be able to focus on the heroic act of saving four people, rather than the tragedy of losing one. Da—Agent Nishijima would want you to see it that way.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi scoffs, “I watched him die. I did nothing. That’s not <em>heroic. </em>I watched him die and I let the human—the being, the <em>thing</em>—that caused his death to get away.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“I thought you said it was an explosion?” Takamasa frowns and scratches something down in the folder.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yes,” Taichi grimaces, raking a hand through his hair, “But it was caused by Gennai. He did this.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Gennai?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“He’s this…” Taichi starts and then stops abruptly. If he’s honest, he doesn’t know exactly <em>what </em>Gennai is. A monster, yes; and evil, apparently. But he’s not sure how to describe Gennai to an outsider. “He’s kind of like a human, but he exists in the Digital World. Humanoid, as Koushiro would say—Koushiro can explain it better. When we were kids, he acted like a guide, helping”—Taichi adds his own air quotes around the word helping— “us. I don’t know what happened… but he changed. Started working against us. Tried to kill me. Killed Mr. Nishijima.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa nods, and jots down a note. “This is the being that was seen masquerading as the Ichijouji kid.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yes, but it that wasn’t Ken, sir,” Taichi insists, panic edging into his voice.</p><p>
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</p><p>“We know,” Takamasa assures him. “Do you know where this Gennai is now?”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi shakes his head. His heart is pounding inside his chest now and he bites down on his lip, trying to keep his composure.</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa nods again, pursuing his lips as he scrawls down notes. He then puts down the folder and folds his hands on the desk again. “I might have a few follow-up questions for you, Taichi, but I think this is quite enough for today,” he says, as his eyes scan Taichi, studying him. “Thank you for your candidness. This took a lot of courage.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi nods and moves to stand, thankful for the dismissal. He feels like any second he could fall apart. His shirt is sticky with sweat, the tie around his neck feels like it’s choking him, and his mind is betraying him, replaying pictures of Nishijima laying there, drenched in blood, and Gennai’s wide, mad eyes, taunting him.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Taichi,” Takamasa continues, slowly, drawing his attention back to the present. “Before I escort you out.” He pauses, and Taichi follows his gaze as it shifts to land on a shelf, where, alongside numerous books, sit three photos. The first is a picture of three men dressed in military uniforms, standing side-by-side and smiling. The one in the middle is obviously Takamasa, while the other two are unfamiliar. The second, is an agency class photo, and Taichi gut clenches as he spots Nishijima smiling in the front row. The third is a group of teenagers— a young Takamasa, a pretty raven-haired female, and another unfamiliar male—dressed in casual clothing, faces pressed close together and laughing.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Losing people is never easy,” Takamasa continues, tapping the edge of the military photograph. “Especially in a war. Being there and being unable to do anything about it is harder. It… It can make you angry and hard and scared and reckless.” He pauses, his finger skimming down the middle of the photo of the three teenagers. “And that can make you a danger to yourself and to others.” He turns to meet Taichi’s eyes. “Don’t let it get to that point.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi tries to smile. “I’m fine, sir.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa arches an eyebrow, which might mark the first time his face has done anything but tilt the side of his lips up and down. “Do you have someone to talk to?” Taichi shrugs, thinking of how hard it’s been to tell Yamato any of this. “Your friends,” Takamasa continues, gently, “They won’t understand. They can’t, not really, but that doesn’t mean they won’t want to be there for you.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi nods. “I’m fine, sir,” he repeats, “Really.” He plasters on one of his fake smiles that usually appeases adults enough to make them drop a topic.</p><p>
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</p><p>Takamasa shakes his head softly. “No one is fine after going through something like that. Trust me.”</p><p>
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</p><p>He doesn’t push the topic though, getting up from his desk and walking around to open his office door, holding the door open for Taichi. The two of them walk silently back to the waiting room, the balance of their conversation hanging between them.</p><p>
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</p><p>Yamato is on his feet the second Taichi reappears. “You okay?” Yamato whispers, as Taichi moves to stand next to him. His hand hovers just short of grasping Taichi’s.</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi gives him the barest of nods. “Yeah, let’s go. I just want to get out of here.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yagami,” Takamasa says, interrupting their whispered exchange. Taichi spins on his heel to face the Agent. “Take this.” He pulls out a business card, scrawls something on it, and reaches forward, hand hanging in the air as Taichi just stares. “My contact information.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi glares. “No, thanks.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Realizing Taichi isn’t going to take the card, Takamasa takes another step forward and tucks it into the breast pocket of Taichi’s shirt. He taps the card. “Take it. Contact me when you need to. When it gets too tough, too dark—and it will. When the anger starts to unfurl itself and you aren’t sure where the other side is, call me. Anytime.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Let’s go, Taichi,” Yamato says, tugging on his arm. Taichi turns to look at Yamato and nods, taking a first step in the direction of the exit, anxious to leave.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Thank you for your time today, boys,” Takamasa says as they begin to walk away. “I’ll speak to you soon, Taichi.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi barely says anything as they make their way out of the building. He works hard to remain calm the entire elevator descent, stepping out the moment he can, and nodding an abrupt goodbye at their escort. He’s dizzied, the stress of it all—the elevator, the agency, the conversation, Nishijima, Gennai, the asshole agent—taking their toll. As soon as they’re back outside, Taichi veers quickly to left, bolting down the first empty side street he sees, and sidles up to the wall, where he promptly throws up. Taichi finds himself falling to his knees, bone connecting with the pavement in a way that is definitely going to hurt in the morning.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Shit, Taichi,” Yamato says as he catches up to him. He crouches beside Taichi, hand brushing Taichi’s hair back from his face. “What happened back there? Are you okay?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“m’ fine,” Taichi mumbles, wiping his mouth with sleeve of his shirt. He turns to work to loosen the tie he’s wearing, but his hands are shaking too much to make any progress. Yamato’s hands come up instead, undoing the knot and removing the constricting object from around Taichi’s neck.</p><p>
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</p><p>“You’re clearly not fine,” Yamato argues, switching to rubbing small circles on Taichi’s back.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Something I ate?” Taichi jokes, weakly. His eyes are closed, and he rests his head in his hands, rubbing at the side of his temple, trying to steady himself.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Taichi.” Yamato’s tone is cool. Even with his eyes closed, Taichi can picture the flurry of big emotions phasing across Yamato’s face, likely landing on frustration. Maybe irritation.</p><p>
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</p><p>Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, Taichi whispers, “Please don’t make me talk about it for a second time today.” In typical Yamato fashion, Yamato doesn’t verbally acquiesce, but Taichi can feel Yamato’s posture soften, his hand relaxing at the point where it rests on Taichi’s back.  </p><p>
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</p><p>It’s a few more minutes before Taichi feels steady enough to climb back to a standing position. He refuses the hand Yamato offers him, but, once he’s standing, he does let his forehead fall against Yamato’s shoulder, allowing Yamato support him until Taichi truly has his feet under him.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Can we just go to my place so I can get out of these stupid clothes?”</p><p>
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</p><p>Yamato chuckles. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees, placing the smallest and quickest of kisses on the side of Taichi’s head.</p><p>
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</p><p>A girlish laugh reaches Taichi’s ears as he opens the door to his family’s apartment, causing him to stop so short that Yamato almost slams into his back. The scene he opens the door to is charming: his sister is standing by the kitchen table, a bright smile illuminating her features, while Takeru sits on a chair opposite her, hands moving as he tells an expressive story. They’re accompanied by their digimon partners: Patamon sitting atop Takeru’s head, giggling, while Tailmon perches on the table, half obscured by a bag that Hikari is packing.</p><p>
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</p><p>Tailmon notices Taichi and Yamato first. Her tail flicks Hikari, who glances up briefly, her laugh drawing to an abrupt ending. Takeru follows Tailmon’s gaze, his mouth opening slightly before snaping shut again, glancing awkwardly between the two Yagami siblings.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Hi,” Taichi says, after a long awkward pause. Yamato nudges Taichi gently, guiding him into the apartment, which the only reason Taichi realizes he has yet to actually move through the doorway. Taichi toes his shoes off, hovering in the entrance way. Yamato copies him, taking up position by Taichi’s shoulder, arms crossed over his chest.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Hi,” Takeru replies quickly, likely suffering under Yamato’s stare. “Hey, Yamato.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Hi, Takeru,” Yamato echoes, “Hi, Patamon.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Hi.” Patamon pipes up.</p><p>
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</p><p>Silence settles back in, Hikari and Tailmon saying nothing, the latter studying the two older siblings wryly. Hikari continues to pack items into the bag, while Takeru chews on his bottom lip, looking anxious. Hikari and Takeru’s partners gravitate towards them, providing steady, unrelenting support. The sight makes Taichi wish he hadn’t left Agumon—unsure how walking into the Agency alongside his digimon would have gone—at Koushiro’s that morning, just so he’d have that same support in his corner. At least he has Yamato with him, as conflicted as Yamato’s support must be given the presence of his brother on the opposing side.</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi drags a socked foot across the floor, staring at it rather than his sister. Prior to this week, Taichi could have counted on one hand the amount of times he’s felt truly <em>awkward </em>around his sister. They’ve argued—sure; disagreed—definitely; yelled—hell yes. But this cold, insurmountable distance is new. It’s different and terrible. And it feels permanent. It makes the hair on his arm stand on edge, his mouth dry-out, his gut clench, and freezes him to the spot in the doorway. He finds himself hoping that maybe if he stays quiet long enough, she’ll be forced to break the awkwardness. But it’s always been him, not her, that’s been uncomfortable with silence.</p><p>
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</p><p>The hush is seemingly making everyone but Hikari feel awkward: Takeru opening and closing his mouth like a fish; Patamon sinking further into Takeru’s hat; Tailmon looking apprehensive; and Yamato essentially growling under his breath. It’s at that point that Taichi opens his mouth again, before Yamato can say something damaging.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Hikari…” he tries, but words die on his tongue. He stares at her, silently begging.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Mom and Dad aren’t home,” Hikari says, finally. Her tone is curt, and she is still not looking up at Taichi. “They’ll be home late. There’s money for take-out on the counter if you need it. I’m going with Takeru to visit Miyako and the others in hospital.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi absorbs this, trying to soak it in over the haze that’s already starting to form in his head, thinking: <em>Of course, the others are still in hospital. Great, another thing that you should be aware of. Be taking care of. Talking to Daisuke, finding out what happened… </em>He bites down on his bottom lip, hard. <em>You’re failing at being a leader… and at being a friend, </em>he thinks to himself, dragging a hand through knotted hair before clenching his hand into a fist.</p><p>
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</p><p>“How are they?” he asks aloud, when the silence drags on again. He clenches his first harder, nails digging into his palm.</p><p>
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</p><p>Hikari shrugs, walking into her bedroom.</p><p>
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</p><p>Looking over—mostly at Yamato, Taichi is sure—Takeru answers his question: “They’re okay. Getting better.” He glances awkwardly at Hikari’s bedroom door, watching as she comes back into the room with a sweater. “You could—" Takeru’s cut off with a look from Hikari and his mouth shuts sharply.  Hikari tucks the sweater into the bag, returning to studying the contents.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Hikari, we should talk,” Taichi starts, walking over to the table. He rubs his hands together nervously. Something in his stomach twists.</p><p>
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</p><p>Hikari heaves the bag over her shoulder, motioning to Takeru that she’s ready to go. She takes a step around Taichi, walking the few steps to reach the door and pushes past Yamato silently in order to pull out her shoes. Yamato glares as he moves to the side.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Please,” Taichi adds. He feels desperate. His sister tucks her feet into her shoes, ignoring him. </p><p>
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</p><p>Takeru shoves on his own shoes, giving his brother a half-hug, which Yamato returns with a pained expression, whispering something too low for Taichi to hear. Takeru throws Taichi an awkward half-smile before shoving his hands in his pocket, waiting for Hikari to make her move.</p><p>
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</p><p>Hikari pauses, hand on the doorknob, preparing to leave. She sighs, heavily, and turns slightly towards them. “Taichi,” she says slowly, cool eyes settling on him, “You’re my brother and I love you because that’s what family does. I <em>am </em>glad you’re home safe. But, I’m,” she pauses for a second and Taichi can hear his heart pounding in his chest as he waits for her next words, “I’m not sure I like this you. I don’t understand this you or your decisions. I can’t justify it.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Hikari holds his gaze for a second as if she’s waiting for a response. Taichi opens his mouth, scrambling to find words, the right words, <em>any</em> words. But before he can, before any identify themselves, she opens the door, and the four of them walk through it—Takeru sheepishly ducking his head before following—and the door closes behind her.</p><p>
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</p><p>The door clicking shut hits him hard: a wave of panic like an electric shock curses through his body and a thrumming in his head overtakes everything else in the room. In the background, Taichi’s mildly aware of Yamato letting out a string of curses, but his voice is fading fast. All Taichi hears is the voice whispering, on repeat: <em>Failure. Failed leader, failed friend, failed brother. Deserter, murderer, coward. <strong>Monster—</strong></em></p><p>
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</p><p>It’s almost like struggling to maintain consciousness. Or struggling to remain afloat in severely choppy waters. Taichi can hear blood passing through his ears—<em>thump, thump, thump</em>—and can essentially see his chest moving up and down, even beneath the layers of clothing. His hands are trembling. His vision’s blurry. And for the second time that day he’s so hot and sweaty, his clothing thick and constricting on his skin. His vision is getting darker and narrower—like looking through a kaleidoscopic. As if someone’s pressing down on his eyelids, causing him to see stars. Taichi finds himself sinking to the hallway floor, his legs giving out beneath him.</p><p>
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</p><p><strong><em>—</em></strong><em>Monster. You’re dying, </em>the voice in his head whispers. <em>This is what death feels like. </em></p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>
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</p>
<hr/><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>
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</p><p>“Taichi. Taichi. Taichi!”</p><p>
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</p><p>Thirty seconds or maybe an hour later—Taichi isn’t sure—Yamato’s voice registers. Taichi blinks. His vision opens up, refocusing on a very concerned looking Yamato crouched in front of him, tightly gripping his shoulders.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yeah?” Taichi mumbles, his voice sounding hollow and foreign.</p><p>
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</p><p>Yamato heaves a sigh of relief. “Fuck, you scared me,” he says, voice brittle and grip still tight. “I thought I might have to call for an ambulance…”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi tries to laugh, but he’s not sure a sound comes out. His breathings still laboured, like he’s just sprinted up and down the football field a dozen times.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Hey, just breathe,” Yamato tells him, “It’s going to pass. Just breathe with me.” Yamato exaggerates his breathing, loud enough for Taichi to hear. “Normal breath in, long exhale…” He demonstrates, taking a breath in, elongating the exhale with a slight whoosh sound. Taichi obeys, copying him. At the same time, Yamato hand gently rubs his shoulder, providing a steady presence without crowding him. They continue—normal breath in, exaggerated exhale out—until their breathing’s synchronized, and Taichi’s speeding heartbeat starts to slow.</p><p>
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</p><p>After a long while, Taichi’s breathing returns to normal. He feels exhausted, but no longer completely overwhelmed. The world feels a bit more in focus, the thumping in his head is ceasing, and he’s no longer trembling.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Better?” Yamato asks, softly.</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi nods, lifting his eyes to meet Yamato’s. He gives him a small smile and lets out a half-hearted chuckle. “Did you look up what to do?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Maybe… I mean, well, yes…” Yamato blushes almost instantly.  “Last time you ran out on me!” he adds, defensively.</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi huffs out another laugh, a bit stronger this time. He slides forward on his knees, wrapping his arms around Yamato’s neck. “That’s twice today you’ve rescued me,” Taichi whispers, brushing his lips against Yamato’s in gesture that’s uncharacteristically soft for them. “Thank you.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Well, it’s about time I started paying you back,” Yamato responds, pressing his forehead against Taichi’s and gathering him further into his arms. “You’ve saved me more times than I can count.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“I haven’t been keeping score.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Well, I’m loathe to admit it, but I think you’re ahead on this one.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi laughs and buries his face into the crook of Yamato’s neck, still concentrating on keeping his breathing steady. Panic gone, but not forgotten. Yamato’s hands are tight around him, almost clinging to him, as if Yamato’s afraid to let go. Relaxing into his arms, Taichi indulges Yamato in his hug. His grip doesn’t relax for a long while.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yama, you can let go anytime,” Taichi says, finally, with a chuckle.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Oh.” Yamato’s arms fall automatically to his sides. “Sorry,” he mutters, ears tinged red.</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi grabs one of his hands. “S’fine,” he murmurs, grazing his lips across Yamato’s knuckles. “Are you okay?” he adds, as he pushes himself to his feet.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yeah,” Yamato replies, getting up from the floor as well. He looks apprehensive; standing on the edge, holding back a tidal wave of emotion.</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi arches an eyebrow in a question mark as he walks backwards through his bedroom door, turning when he gets inside, unbuttoning his slacks, which hit the ground without a care. Kicking up a pair of shorts laying on the floor of his room, Taichi steps through and tugs them up with a hop.</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi pauses as he adjusts the drawstring on his shorts, waiting to see if Yamato will tip over that edge, but nothing comes. “Are you sure?” he asks, before continuing undressing, yanking his sweat soaked shirt over his head. As he does Takamasa’s business card flutters to the ground. Crouching, Taichi picks up the slightly damp card, pausing briefly to stare at it, turning the card over in his fingers. <em>Bastard. I’ll chuck this. I don’t need this, </em>he thinks, before discarding the card on his desk. <em>Yamato’s here, you can talk to him…</em></p><p>
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</p><p>Grabbing a fresh shirt from his dresser, Taichi looks back to Yamato, who is leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom, eyes very deliberately following his every move. Yamato’s emotional dam is cracked and poked full of holes—soon enough it’ll break. Taichi just has to wait. In the meantime, mentally and physically exhausted himself, Taichi flops on his bed, shirt splayed over his stomach, unworn. He leans back, legs hanging over the side at a ninety-degree angle, and pats the spot next to him.</p><p>
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</p><p>Yamato sits down on the bed next to Taichi. Then, sure enough, the dam groans, and emotions spill through: “You just… scared me…” The words are slow, broken, and Yamato pulls his bottom lip in-between his teeth as he speaks. “You went somewhere there… I couldn’t reach you. That scared me.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“I know,” Taichi admits, closing his eyes. “I’m trying—I’ll pull myself together.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Yamato places his hand on Taichi’s knee and squeezes. “That’s not what I mean… I just don’t know what to do. I want to help.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“You are helping,” Taichi replies, and he means it.</p><p>
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</p><p>Yamato grimaces. “Not really,” he says, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he sighs emphatically into his hands. “Goddamn your sister.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“None of this is her fault.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“It’s not your fault either!”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Parts of it are. I’m sorry for lots of things,” Taichi says, blowing air through his teeth. “You should have gone to the hospital with Hikari and Takeru. I’m putting you in the middle.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Yamato scoffs, “She’s being ridiculous. She needs to get over it.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Sighing, Taichi rubs at his eyes. “She is entitled to feel however she wants. And,” he says, pausing and taking a deep breath, “I don’t think she will get over it. Though, I didn’t mean between Hikari and I—”</p><p>
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</p><p>“She better,” Yamato interrupts. “It’s only because of you we got out of that damn mess. And it’s not your fault she helped create some sort of monstrosity—”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yama,” Taichi warns, softly.</p><p>
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</p><p>Yamato growls in response. “Did you know that?”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi nods. “Koushiro told me.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Since Koushiro told him—this morning when he dropped Agumon off—Taichi’s tried to picture it. His sister grieving, her emotions cumulating in some sort of mangled evolution. He’s been there, he knows how tempestuous it is watching everyone have to fight something created from the ugliness within oneself. Some monstrosity that exists inside—with the capacity for unknown levels of chaos or evil—and has come out to wreak havoc, not distinguishing between friend and foe. He has his own nightmares of bones and cavities, watching helplessly as his friends fight the monstrosity created from everything damaged inside of him. Of a giant wolf and bird and insect fighting the personification of Taichi’s rage and recklessness; trying to subdue the part of him that is a threat to everyone.</p><p>
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</p><p>He’s tried to picture his friends striving to separate who they know Hikari and Tailmon to be from the monster, desperate to locate the good they know must be inside. To save their friend, without being destroyed themselves. How close they must have been to failing before pulling out a goddamn miracle. Hikari must have been scared and lost and lonely. And he failed her. Again. He always manages to fail her.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Thankfully Koushiro exists,” Taichi adds. “And you.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“I didn’t do anything. But yeah,” Yamato muses, “Computer-boy gets us out of a lot of jams.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi jabs Yamato in the ribs. “Be nice.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Yamato brushes Taichi’s hand away. Then after pausing for a second, he repeats: “She will forgive you, Taichi. Forgive <em>us</em>.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi sits up on his elbows and shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he repeats. “And honestly, I don’t think she’s supposed to forgive me. Or should. Neither of them, Hikari nor Takeru. They’re the Chosen of Light and Hope, they’re not supposed to settle for solutions like this. For half-measures. For winning through sacrifice. For anything less than total victory and a happy ending, where light and hope win.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Takeru’s not mad at you,” Yamato puffs out.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yeah, he is,” Taichi replies, resigned, “His hi today is the most he’s said to me since that day, and that was only because you’re here.” He reaches over and squeezes Yamato’s hand. “I’m just glad he’s not mad at <em>you</em>.” He pauses, while he takes in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry, Yamato. I’m sorry you had to be part of that, just because you and I are… partners. I’m sorry.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Taichi…” Yamato turns, pulling his leg back on the bed, so he’s seated angled towards Taichi. “We did that <em>together</em>. I know what I said before… before you—well before you…” Yamato’s voice trails off and he quickly rubs the back of his hand over his eyes. "I know what I said,” he continues, pained expression painted across his face, “But, if she—if <em>they</em> are mad at you, they should be mad at me too.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“They’re not. And I’m glad they’re not.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“They should be! I’m also to blame!” Yamato says, balling up a fist and driving it into the mattress. Yamato turns his head away slightly, but Taichi has already seen his eyes welling up with tears, even as Yamato furiously tries to blink them back. “I’m one half of the being that killed our friend’s partner. And I have the Crest of Friendship for fuck’s sake.” He spits the last sentence, voice cracking slightly.</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi sits up, taking Yamato’s arm and pulling him towards him. “Hey, come here,” Taichi says, cradling Yamato against him. Taichi lays them back down on the bed, already feeling Yamoto’s tears drop on his bare chest. “I know this is hard for you. It should be hard for you. What we did wasn’t easy…”</p><p>
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</p><p>“I’m fine,” Yamato insists, but it comes out a strangled sound, as he ferociously blinks to hold back tears.</p><p>
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</p><p>“It’s okay that you’re not fine,” Taichi replies, softly, “It’s hard for me too. I didn’t want to have to do that.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Fuck,” Yamato stammers, suddenly tense in Taichi’s arms. “Fuck. You shouldn’t—stop.  Stop comforting me. You’ve dealt with everything today…” He tries to tear away from Taichi’s grasp.</p><p>
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</p><p>Taichi chuckles, pulling Yamato back and into his chest. “Whatever,” he says, kissing the top of Yamato’s head. “We’ve both been through a lot.”</p><p>
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</p><p>They’re silent for a few minutes, and Taichi waits, despite patience never being his forte.  Yamato’s been there every step of the way—not just today, but every day. Taichi can wait as long as it takes for him to unload even a tenth of whatever Yamato’s bottling up inside.</p><p>
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</p><p>“It’s just,” Yamato mumbles, “I got Gabumon back. Memories and all. I got you back. Everything that’s important to me is still here…” Yamato’s eyelashes flutter against Taichi’s chest as Yamato blinks back more emotions. “And then… I turned around and helped destroyed the being most important to Meiko… I don’t deserve my Crest…”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yes, you do. There’s never been a single moment where you haven’t deserved your Crest. You’ve always been there for me.” Taichi tightens his arms around Yamato, even as Yamato snorts at Taichi’s remarks.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Not always. There’s been plenty of times. What about—”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Shut up,” Taichi cuts him off, “You’ve always deserved your Crest. You’re always there for me—for all of us. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” Taichi pauses, swallowing hard. “I wish there would have been another way. Or that I could have done it alone…” <em>Anything so you wouldn’t have to live with this, </em>Taichi thinks, wishing he could fix this.</p><p>
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</p><p>“You’re not alone, Taichi…”</p><p>
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</p><p>“I know that too,” Taichi says, even though in some ways, he very much is. There are somethings he just can’t share with Yamato. Somethings for which he’s going to carry the burden himself. “Yama, what we did… it was right. We had to do that: no matter how difficult the decision was to make, we had to make it.” <em>Even if you’re up against a friend, </em>Taichi repeats the rest of Nishijima’s advice silently in his head. Taichi’s heartbeat quickens a bit, guilt surging up as he remembers Nishijima’s final moments with him.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Do you honestly believe that?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yes,” Taichi responds, much stronger than he feels. “I… I have to. It was mercy. For our <em>friend</em>,” Taichi adds, as much his own benefit as for Yamato’s. A truth bittersweet and double-edged, like Omegamon’s sword. Maybe if he says it enough, he’ll come to terms with it. “I have to believe that, even if the others don’t. I can shoulder that… for Hikari, for you… for all of you.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Yamato tips his head up, meeting Taichi’s eyes. “Together,” Yamato whispers, his voice teetering on the edge. “I’m always going to be on your side, Taichi.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Always?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Always,” Yamato promises, and Taichi wills himself to believe him.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Exactly three weeks without an update. Whoops. I hit writers block with the Takamasa scene - it came together well enough, I think. </p><p>As always, reviews and comments and love make my heart soar. Love hearing your thoughts, so please drop me a line - no matter what you have to say (even if minimal)! Cheers.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Both Sides of the Coin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is told half from Taichi's view and half from Yamato's, as I fucked up in chapter 11 and need 13 to be Yamato's. Back to regular scheduled programming next time, and with any luck, this won't happen again. Also: this chapter is about as wholesome as they come, except for the last line of chapter, which I suppose could be interpreted as NSFW. If you stretch.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Twelve: Both Sides of the Coin</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong><em>"I am not myself these days - for all I </em><br/>
<em>Know I might be you </em><br/>
<em>There's more than room enough for two inside my mind." </em><br/>
<em>-Both Sides of the Coin, Cast of the Mystery of Edwin Drood</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Taichi!” Mimi exclaims, waving enthusiastically, as Taichi and Yamato approach her. “Palmon and I were just talking about you!” She smiles and leans around him. “Hi Yamato!”</p><p>“Hi Mimi, hi Palmon,” Taichi says, and Yamato echoes the greeting, as they join her standing at the entrance to Koushiro’s office building. Mimi wraps an arm around him and kisses his cheek. Palmon waves.</p><p>Taichi can’t help but smile a bit, thinking of Koushiro waiting upstairs for her.  Mimi’s dressed in a sundress, and both human and digimon wearing giant black sunhats, reminiscent of the one she wore their first time in the Digital World. Palmon’s holding a picnic basket in her arms and Mimi has a monstrosity of a bag at her side.</p><p>“Shit,” Taichi stumbles, as his eyes land on the picnic basket, realizing how late it is getting, already closing in on dinner time.  “We’re running behind, I meant to be out of here before you were set to arrive… I just need to grab Agumon…”</p><p>“It’s no problem,” Mimi says, smiling. “I really did want to talk to you.” She presses the buzzer and waves at Tentomon through the security system. Once the door unlocks, she pushes it open and walks towards the elevator.</p><p>Taichi pauses; he’s had enough enclosed spaces for a lifetime, let alone today. “Um, Mimi,” he says, tentatively. “We’re going to take the stairs. Or I am, Yamato can go with you. I’ll meet you up there…”</p><p>Mimi frowns. “The stairs?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Taichi stumbles. “I’m… getting a head start on football season?” He offers, however its clearly posed with an inflexion at the end and Mimi’s eyes narrow.</p><p>“Okay, stairs,” she concedes, after a moment’s thought, repositioning the bag on her shoulder. She takes the picnic basket from Palmon and hands it to Taichi, before moving towards the door. “I’ve climbed mountains, what’s a few flights of stairs?”</p><p>Uncharacteristically, Mimi doesn’t complain the entire way up. At the top, she’s barely breathing hard—Yamato’s the one labouring the most, to both Taichi and Mimi’s amusement. “Shut up,” Yamato grumbles, when he notices them chuckling. “How are you <em>not</em> out of breath?” Yamato says, pointedly, to Mimi.</p><p>“Spin class,” she offers, flashing them a smile. “It’s <em>really </em>popular in New York. You know, Taichi, biking would be a much more convenient way to traverse the Digital World.”</p><p>“Noted,” Taichi laughs. They walk down the hall towards Koushiro’s office. “So, what did you want to talk about?”</p><p>“Oh yeah!” Mimi says, rapping her knuckles on the door. It quickly opens and Koushiro appears.</p><p>“What took you all so long?” Koushiro asks, frowning.</p><p>“We took the stairs,” Mimi replies, “And hi.”</p><p>“Hello, Mimi.” Koushiro smiles, a small tinge of red appearing on his ears. “But… the stairs?” Koushiro repeats. “Is the elevator broken?” He pokes his head into the hallway.</p><p>“No. But stairs are apparently better than elevators and biking is better than walking, so it must also better than stairs,” Palmon explains, helpfully. Koushiro’s brow furrows and Taichi opens his mouth slightly to explain or rationalize the situation, before snapping it closed again—he can’t explain, it feels impossible.</p><p>“I’m confused,” Agumon says from the couch. Taichi sighs out a small laugh, strolling over and placing the picnic basket on the table. Once his hands are free, he pats Agumon’s head, grateful to have Agumon back at his side, after the day he’s experienced. A giant piece of him feels more centred now.</p><p>“Mimi’s the group athlete now,” Yamato replies, dryly, now that he’s caught his breath.</p><p>Mimi either doesn’t register the sarcasm or she skillfully chooses to ignore it, cheerfully carrying on: “Anyway, yes. I wanted to talk to you. Palmon and I—and a few others as well, yesterday—were talking about how it’s almost the end of August and how in all of the fuss we have barely gotten to enjoy our vacation!”</p><p>“Yeah!” Palmon chimes in. Agumon already looks excited.</p><p>“Oh,” Taichi says, “Yeah, I guess that’s true…” He looks over at Yamato, who looks skeptical.</p><p>“So,” Mimi elaborates, “We thought a campout would be fun. Fancy campout.” She laughs and Palmon cheers. “My cousin has a cabin that is just over an hour’s drive from here that will fit the whole team plus the digimon. And as long as we find a chaperone, I’m sure everyone’s parents will agree to let us go! Takeru suggested maybe his dad to chaperone as he’s cool with the digimon and went on the last fake-campout you guys had—except this one is real. Yamato, would that be possible?”</p><p>“Um,” Yamato replies, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “I guess I could ask.”</p><p>Mimi clasps her hands together, happily. “Do you think we could Taichi?” Mimi pleads, giant smile growing on her face. Taichi looks from her to Koushiro, the latter of which shrugs. “It’ll be fun. We all need to relax, and it’ll be good team bonding. Don’t you think?”</p><p>Taichi hesitates. While the idea of camping would regularly sound fun, the prospect of spending a weekend in the woods with everyone, particularly his sister, doesn’t exactly scream of an activity he wants to partake in right now. To Taichi, it just seems like a stressful weekend of avoiding everyone’s unanswered questions and lingering gazes. On the other hand, the team does need to regroup. He sighs, twin desires between self-preservation and leadership at odds.</p><p>“Taichi?” Mimi asks again. “What do you think?”</p><p>“Will the younger cohort even be out of hospital?” Taichi asks, stalling.</p><p>“Yes, we enquired. They’re being released today,” Koushiro interjects. He leans against the wall, seemingly analyzing Taichi to gauge his response.</p><p>“The doctor said it would be fine as long as they take it easy and are comfortable,” Mimi replies, quickly. “That’s why its fancy camping, not just… camping.” She sticks out her tongue at him. Taichi’s reasonably sure it’s ‘fancy camping’ for multiple reasons.</p><p>“Please Taichi?” Palmon adds, eyes round and pleading, her vein-like hands clasped in front of her in a prayer-pose.</p><p>“I do believe it would be fun!” Tentomon adds, hovering near Koushiro.</p><p>Taichi takes in a deep breath. “Okay then, sure, Mimi,” he agrees, plastering on a fake smile and trying to sound enthused. “Sounds like fun. We should do that. The team could use it.” He can feel Yamato’s eyes on him, clearly seeing through the façade.</p><p>Mimi squeals and throws her arms around his neck. He hugs her back and smiles at Yamato and Koushiro over her shoulder, trying to look assured. “Excellent! I’ll plan everything, you won’t need to lift a finger!” she exclaims, bending down to give Palmon a high-five. “Yamato, you’ll ask your dad, right? Please?”</p><p>Yamato nods. “Sure, Mimi. Just give me the details and I’ll ask.”</p><p>Another squeal from Mimi. Agumon and Palmon join in with a cheer. Even Tentomon looks pleased—or at least Taichi thinks, it’s sometimes hard to tell with Tentomon, bug-features mostly impassioned.</p><p>Taichi smiles, it feels realer this time. “Okay. Only if all twelve of us can go,” he adds.</p><p>“Of course!” Mimi says, flashing him a peace sign. She pauses for a second, spares a small glance at Koushiro, before continuing, “Oh, and Taichi, I was wondering… I’d like to invite Meiko. She could really use a fun trip right now and I think it would be good for her. We’re still friends, so we should include her.” She turns to look fully at Koushiro and rolls her eyes. “Koushiro said I had to ask you.”</p><p>Taichi stomach sinks. “Are you sure that’s something she’d want to do? We’re bringing the digimon…” he asks, quietly. He looks quickly at Yamato who also looks slightly apprehensive.</p><p>“I mean, all we can do is ask and encourage her to come,” Mimi responds, twirling her hair around her finger. “She’s our friend.” She looks at him, big eyes pleading for a positive response.</p><p>He feels mildly sick. <em>Great, a weekend in woods with the girl whose digimon you destroyed. Excellent, </em>he panics to himself, heart beating slightly faster; stress starting to build. He also doesn’t want to disappoint Mimi or any of the other girls. And he doesn’t want to exclude someone his friends want along. He doesn’t want to be <em>that</em> guy. He pushes the panic down and just turns back to Mimi and flashes another grin. “Sure, ask her.”  </p><p>Mimi squeals again and twirls in a circle. “I promise this will be so fun, both of you! Ask your parents!”</p><p>“Yes!” Palmon adds, pumping her hand.</p><p>“It <em>sounds </em>like fun!” Agumon exclaims, grinning up at Taichi, as much as one can with a mouthful of pointy teeth. Taichi rewards him with a small smile, patting the dinosaur’s big head.</p><p>Mimi turns around and slides her arm through Yamato’s crossed arms. “I’ll give you all the details Yamato so you can ask, we can confirm, and I can start planning! Oh, this will be so much fun!” She drags Yamato over to Koushiro’s desk where she starts scrawling details on a paper.</p><p>Koushiro slides over to Taichi. “How did it go today?” he asks, quietly, so that just Taichi can hear.</p><p>“Um,” Taichi replies, just as quietly. “Fine, I guess.”</p><p>“Did you tell them about Nishijima?” Koushiro inquires. Taichi nods and Koushiro looks thoughtful. “At least now they know. But it was okay? You’re okay? They didn’t want to know anything else?”</p><p>“Not really,” he lies, “Just basic questions.” Taichi pauses. “Actually, Koushiro, could you do something for me? And, if yes, can we just keep it between us for now?”</p><p>Koushiro arches an eyebrow. “Do you really need to ask that?”</p><p>Taichi smiles softly. He looks over at Yamato and Mimi, still crowded around Koushioro’s desk. “Thanks,” he says, affectionately knocking Koushiro’s shoulder with his own. Then he leans in close and quickly tells Koushiro what he needs.</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><h4>
  <strong><em>Yamato</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong><em>"And if I'm him and if I'm he, each one of us might not</em><br/>
<em>Agree on what to do"</em><br/>
<em>-Both Sides of the Coin, Cast of the Mystery of Edwin Drood</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“This is takeaway,” Agumon comments, as they walk down the walkway to Yamato’s apartment, having collected dinner after having left Koushiro’s office.</p><p>“It is,” Yamato agrees, fishing out his keys to open his apartment door.</p><p>“You said yesterday you’d make dinner,” Agumon continues, eyeing the takeaway bag of four bento boxes and a variety of snacks, skeptically.  </p><p>“I said I’d <em>get </em>you dinner,” Yamato argues, rolling his eyes at the dinosaur. Behind him, he can hear Taichi chuckle. “I paid, didn’t I?”</p><p>“I would have paid except they don’t take digi-dollars!” Agumon argues back, theatrically waving his arms in the air.</p><p>“Do you even have digi-dollars?” Taichi laughs, leaning against the hallway wall.</p><p>“No, but I’m sure Gabumon does,” Agumon responds, faithfully.</p><p>Yamato scoffs, as he twists the key and shoves open the door. They file into the apartment loudly and the noise brings Gabumon out of Yamato’s bedroom, a blue and white paw rubbing at his eyes.</p><p>“Is that food I smell?” Gabumon asks, padding over to them.</p><p>“It’s takeaway,” Agumon informs Gabumon, with a disappointed lilt to his voice.</p><p>“Oh,” Gabumon responds, dejected, “I thought you were cooking, Yamato.”</p><p>Yamato sighs, tossing the bag onto the kitchen counter. He grits his teeth. “<em>When </em>did I say I would cook?”</p><p>Taichi laughs again, as both their partners look disappointed. “I think we all just thought it was implied,” he teases, coming up behind Yamato, his hand snaking across Yamato’s hip. Yamato jumps at the contact, shifting away from Taichi and glancing at Gabumon and Agumon with a degree of anxiety. Taichi frowns. “Yamato, I’m pretty sure they—”</p><p>“Food,” Yamato interrupts, shoving a bento box into Taichi’s chest so he’s forced to bring his hands back to hold it. Taichi’s frown deepens, but his hands clench around the takeaway container. Yamato quickly turns, feeling a blush creeping down his neck, and busies himself handing food to Gabumon and Agumon, who are both staring at their partners gingerly.</p><p>Despite his earlier comments, Agumon takes the bento box that Yamato hands him eagerly. He and Taichi, the latter of whom throws Yamato a confused look, turn and they disappear around the corner, to the adjoining living room. Yamato can hear both of them throw themselves carefully on the touch and the television flick, the murmur of disjointed voices filling the room as Taichi likely flips through channels.</p><p>Gabumon reaches out more tentatively and takes the box politely. He then pauses and tilts his head to the side, staring at Yamato with questions in his big eyes. Yamato frowns when he sees the look and Gabumon ducks his head, looking away quickly. Sighing, Yamato bends down so he’s at eye level with Gabumon.</p><p>“Are you okay, Yamato?” Gabumon murmurs.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Yamato whispers back, speaking quietly, even though they separated by a wall from Taichi and Agumon.</p><p>“Oh,” Gabumon says, sheepishly. “Did Taichi do something wrong?”</p><p>“No,” Yamato answers, bewildered.</p><p>“Oh,” Gabumon whispers, again, clutching his food in his paws, “But you…” He tilts his head again, pausing, then seemingly changes the direction of his thoughts: “Did something happen?”</p><p>“Um…” Yamato mumbles, cheeks starting to heat up.</p><p>“Oh,” Gabumon whispers, again, however the inflection’s changed, this <em>oh </em>conveying realization or insight. “I see.” A small smile appears on the digimon’s face. He shuffles closer to Yamato and nudges his paw lightly against Yamato’s thigh. “Good for you, Yamato.”</p><p>Yamato blushes. “Shut up,” he mumbles, slightly overwhelmed. He offers a small smile to Gabumon, simultaneously awed by his partner’s understanding and shocked—both because Gabumon does seem to understand, and also because Yamato maybe should have expected it.</p><p>“I’m glad, Yamato.” Gabumon offers Yamato a small smile and pads off in the direction of the couch, leaving Yamato standing in the kitchen, perplexed and overwhelmed and <em>thrilled.</em></p><p>Shaking his head, Yamato follows Gabumon into the living room. Taichi’s leaning against the right-side of the couch, Agumon sitting on the floor leaning against Taichi’s legs, both of them shovelling food into their mouths while staring at sports highlights on the television.</p><p>“No sports,” Yamato chastises, grabbing the remote control off the couch and flipping the channel, finding some random made-for-television movie. Gabumon’s already climbed up onto the left-side of the couch, leaving the middle cushion for Yamato. Yamato shakes his head and sits down, edging closer to Taichi so their arms brush and thighs touch.</p><p>Taichi looks up when Yamato makes contact, frowning for a second before pressing back against Yamato’s leg whilst shaking his head fondly. “Idiot,” Taichi grumbles, before returning to his food.</p><p>“Idiot?” Agumon repeats, with his mouthful, still staring at the television screen. He swallows, before adding: “Are you two fighting again?”</p><p>“No,” Gabumon answers, before Yamato or Taichi can open their mouths. He slowly unwraps his own food. “They’ve evolved.”</p><p>Taichi chokes on his rice, chuckling between gasps for air. Yamato laughs and pats him softly on the shoulder. As he does, he shifts closer, so he’s basically leaning against Taichi. There’s no reason not to; it’s safe here, sat between his partners. Alongside his team. Here, in this apartment, is <em>everything </em>he wants, everything he needs. <em>Here, alive, and with me, </em>Yamato thinks.</p><p>Agumon hums his agreement with Gabumon’s assessment. “Makes sense,” Agumon says, shrugging as he turns back to shovelling food into his mouth.</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>“Are you okay?” Yamato says, shuffling up behind Taichi, who is shoving the takeaway containers into the garbage can. Relaxed, Yamato leans his head in the space between Taichi’s shoulder blades and wraps his arms around Taichi’s waist. “You’ve been abnormally quiet.”</p><p>Taichi’s arms fold across his stomach, hands grasping at Yamato’s wrists, running his thumbs across Yamato’s skin. “I’m fine,” he replies, “Promise.”</p><p>“Are you okay with Mimi’s campout plan?” Yamato asks, wondering if that’s the problem. A weekend with his sister—and Meiko—in the woods can’t be top of the list of things Taichi’s going to enjoy at this moment in time. To be honest, a weekend with Meiko isn’t exactly on Yamato’s to-do list either. Too much guilt there. “I can just say that my dad said no. We can avoid it, if you don’t want to go…”</p><p>Taichi shakes his head. “It’s fine. The team needs it. It’ll be fun,” he surmises, in what Yamato knows is a tone that Taichi wants to sound convincing. <em>Typical. Self-sacrificing idiot, </em>Yamato thinks.</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>Taichi turns around in his arms. “Definitely,” Taichi says, offering Yamato a small smile. Yamato frowns and, clearly seeing that, Taichi leans in to kiss him. The frown slipping from Yamato’s face as he responds to the heat of Taichi’s lips pressed against his own.</p><p>“You’d tell me if something was really wrong?” Yamato murmurs against Taichi’s lips. “After everything today…”</p><p>“It’s just been a long, exhausting, mostly terrible day that I am glad is almost over. But I’m fine. Promise.”</p><p>“Okay,” Yamato replies, his arms closing tighter around Taichi, wanting to keep the events of the day from seeping back into their evening. Wanting to keep Taichi safe everything—from the unfairness of his sister, from the panic, from whatever happened in that office. That Taichi <em>still </em>hasn’t told him about. Yamato bites his tongue, swallowing back questions. He just wants tonight to be simple and carefree. He doesn’t want to ruin it by being his usual challenging, demanding, expectant self. “If you want to talk… I’m here. I told you not to cut me out. So please don’t…”</p><p>Taichi nods. “I won’t,” he agrees. “You and me. Always.” At the words, Yamato leans back in to kiss him. As he does, he presses Taichi back against the counter, the kiss becoming a bit rougher, stronger, and deeper.</p><p>“Ahem.” A throat being cleared interrupts them.</p><p>Yamato and Taichi break apart quickly. Yamato tries to squirm out of Taichi’s arms, but his arms close around him tightly, keeping him in place. A grin spreads across Taichi’s face as he looks over Yamato’s shoulder, to where Yamato is certain their digimon partners stand. Yamato instantly starts blushing—even though the digimon know, it’s still new, and awkward, and… private. He leans against Taichi’s shoulder to hide his face.</p><p>“What’s up?” Taichi asks, sounding a hell of a lot more assured than Yamato feels.</p><p>“Cards,” Agumon replies, giggling. “If you two aren’t too busy.” Gabumon snickers and Yamato groans into Taichi’s shoulder. Betrayed, by his own digimon.</p><p>“Nope, too busy. Go away,” Taichi quips, kissing Yamato’s neck.</p><p>“Taichi!” Agumon complains. “I want to play that game that you were teaching Tailmon and I.”</p><p>Around him, Yamato feels Taichi’s arms tense. Yamato slips his hands upwards, underneath Taichi’s shirt, to rub soothing circles on the bare skin of his back.</p><p>“Okay,” Taichi sighs, both at the comment and, maybe, in contentment. “Be right there.” Instantly, Yamato hears the sound of the digimon shuffling away. Taichi sighs again and leans back, bringing his lips down on Yamato’s again.  “I’m going to kick your ass at Go Fish,” he murmurs as they break apart, his eyes glinting with mischief. Releasing Yamato, Taichi slides out from between him and the counter, and scampers off to the living room, leaving Yamato empty handed and shaking his head.</p><p>Grabbing some of the snacks out of the grocery bag on the kitchen counter, Yamato follows Taichi back into the living room where Taichi is already dealing cards. They’re all seated on the floor around the coffee-table, Gabumon and Agumon looking excited as the cards fall in front of them.</p><p>“Okay,” Taichi says, after seven cards are in front of each of them. “Gabumon, the goal of the game is to get as many of four-of-a-kind as you can. So, you want four twos, or four queens, or four jacks, four of anything.”</p><p>“Or four fours?” Gabumon asks, pensively.</p><p>“Four of whatever you want!” Agumon squawks.</p><p>Taichi nods. “And you get them by asking the other players for them. When it’s your turn, you can ask anyone in the circle for cards of any rank. If you ask and get the card, you can ask another person for another card. If you ask for something incorrectly, you have to go fish.”</p><p>Gabumon frowns. “But where are the fish?”</p><p>Yamato laughs and pets Gabumon’s head affectionately. “There’s no real fish,” Yamato clarifies, “Just cards.” Gabumon frowns again, looking confused.</p><p>“We’ll play together,” Agumon says, sliding over so he and Gabumon are on the same side of the table. Taichi collects the extra cards and shuffles them back in. “We get to go first!” Agumon declares, looking at Yamato and Taichi, studying them. “Yamato—do you have any knights?”</p><p>Taichi frowns. “Buddy, there are no knights…”</p><p>Agumon shakes his head and holds out a Jack. “Knight,” he says, authoritatively. Gabumon nods in support. “We know. We’re very familiar with knights.”</p><p>Yamato snickers and Taichi throws him a look, rolling his eyes. “A knight,” Yamato says, “Yeah. Here.” He tosses over two Jacks and Gabumon and Agumon look elated.</p><p>The two digimon whisper to each other. Then, Gabumon says: “Taichi, do you have any… fours?”</p><p>“Nope.” Taichi says, grinning. “Go Fish.”</p><p>The excited looks deflate and Agumon drags a card off the middle pile, adding it to the fan of cards the dinosaur is attempting to hold in his claws. He’s succeeding—somewhat. As the game continues, every once in a while, a card tips over and Yamato can see the suit of card. He averts his eyes when it does.</p><p>He’s pretty sure Taichi is doing them no such kindness.</p><p>“Do you have any Queens, Agumon and Gabumon?” Taichi asks, smirking. Agumon frowns and hands over two Queens, which Taichi adds to his collection of “books” of cards, on the table in front of him.</p><p>“How does he know?” Gabumon whispers to Agumon. The two digimon huddled together, scheming their way through the game.</p><p>Yamato meets Taichi’s eye and shakes his head. ‘Jerk’ he mouths at Taichi. The brunet grins.</p><p>“I don’t know!” Agumon whispers back, harshly. A two of clubs slips out of his claws. He quickly picks it up and slides it back into his hand.</p><p>“How about any twos?” Taichi asks, grin widening.</p><p>Agumon frowns. He looks from his cards to Gabumon to Taichi and then back again. “I have—” he starts, and then frowns as another card falls from his claws. Realization dawns on his dinosaur face, teeth glinting in the light as his mouth opens in shock. “Taichi!” he squeals. “You’re cheating!”</p><p>“No way!” Taichi laughs.</p><p>Agumon stands up, cards dropping on the table. “Taichi!” The dinosaur lunges at Taichi, who quickly stands up, darting around the table, as Agumon chases him from the room. “Cheater!”</p><p>Gabumon shakes his head, as he calmly collects the cards. “Are you sure we want those two as partners?” Gabumon muses.</p><p>Yamato laughs, his heart completely warm and joyful for the first time in weeks. “Yeah,” he replies, looking fondly at his digimon partner, “I think we do.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A few hours later, Yamato and Taichi are sprawled out on the couch. Their digimon are passed out on the floor, having fallen asleep mid-way through their three-thousandth re-watch of Jurassic Park. Yamato had protested when Gabumon and Agumon had eagerly slid the movie into the DVD player.</p><p>“It’s a good movie,” Taichi had muttered, when he’d sided with the digimon on movie choice much to Yamato’s dismay. Even now, with the digimon fast asleep, and they could easily switch the movie off, Taichi’s still camped out on the couch, eyes glued to the screen.</p><p>“In our lives, Kuwagamon would just get us there,” Taichi mumbles, watching Dr. Alan Grant take shelter in the treetop, alongside the kids.</p><p>Yamato rolls his eyes and continues strumming on his guitar, mostly ignoring the movie. But, despite his resistance, even his attention is drawn to the screen at the Gallimimus flocking scene, fingers pausing above the guitar strings when flock runs away from the Tyrannosaurs Rex.</p><p>“Poor T-Rex,” Taichi says, softly, “So misunderstood.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Yamato mutters in reply, “Real charmers.”</p><p>“Hey,” Taichi says, reaching over to punch Yamato in the thigh, “Take that back.” Yamato grabs his hand and tosses it back at him, rolling his eyes again. Taichi grins and settles back down to watch the rest of the movie, while Yamato returns to strumming.</p><p>Thirty minutes later when the end credits roll, they both get up, quietly rearrange the living room couch into a makeshift bed, and settle their digimon onto it, before slipping off to Yamato’s room where they can at least talk.</p><p>“Are you staying?” Yamato asks, as he closes the door behind him. “No idea when my dad’s due back, and it’s not like we have school tomorrow… so… you can.”</p><p>Taichi flops down on the bed. “If I leave, I’ll have to carry home Agumon,” he says, by way of agreement.</p><p>Yamato chuckles and starts to put away his guitar.</p><p>“You can keep playing,” Taichi adds, “You’ve been playing the same chord for forty minutes, so you’re obviously not happy with something in that song. So, continue. I like listening to you play.” He shifts so he’s resting his hands behind his head and closes his eyes.</p><p>Yamao pauses, but—annoyingly—Taichi’s correct, he’s stuck on a rift and can’t move off this chorus until he gets it right. So, sitting down on the bed and leaning against Taichi’s side, Yamato continues struggling through it. As he mucks around with the new segment of a song, his mind starts drifting to the band and, consequently, the decision he needs to make: the tour. He owes Yukata and the guys an answer today, and it’s already almost midnight.</p><p>“Hey…” Yamato says, slowly, a few minutes later, “Taichi?”</p><p>Taichi opens his eyes to look at Yamato and arches his eyebrow in a question mark. “Got more trash comments about dinosaurs?”</p><p>Yamato smiles fondly and shakes his head. Sighing, he tucks his arm over his guitar. “You know how my show was cancelled because of the Kuwagamon attack?” he asks, tentatively, and Taichi nods. “Well, they rescheduled it for a few weeks from now. The weekend after our campout.” He pauses. “And they offered us a few other shows as well—I guess some opening band fell through—starting the day after. We’d be gone about ten days...”</p><p>“Wow! That’s amazing, Yamato,” Taichi exclaims, smiling and sitting up on the bed. “Congrats.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess,” Yamato says, slowly. He frowns, then adds: “The guys want to take the tour. And they want an answer tonight…”</p><p>“You’re going right?” Taichi responds, without missing a beat. When Yamato’s frown deepens, he adds: “Why wouldn’t you?”</p><p>Yamato sighs. He puts the guitar down at his side and twists his upper body further to face Taichi. “There’s a lot happening here. And school starts basically as we’d get back…”</p><p>“Who cares? You’d be back in time,” Taichi chuckles. Yamato scowls, eyes flickering away, and he can see Taichi’s expression sober out of the corner of his eye. “If you’re worried about me, I’ll be fine… You should go.”</p><p>Raking his teeth across his lip, Yamato pauses. He’s torn. On one hand, this <em>is </em>essentially a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. On the other hand, <em>Taichi. </em>Despite the brunet’s insistence, he’s obviously not okay—Yamato’s seen the panic-attacks to prove it—and, honestly, Yamato’s not sure he’s ready to let Taichi out of his sight.</p><p>“How can you be a rock-star if you don’t go and <em>rock </em>this?” Taichi says, teasingly, when Yamato doesn’t respond quick enough. “You’ll be sick of me by then anyway. After a whole weekend camping with me.”</p><p>“Taichi…”</p><p>“Yamato, you have to go. You can’t stay just because of everything that happened,” Taichi tells him, poking him in the side.</p><p>“A lot happened though…” Yamato mumbles. <em>You died, you left me, I need to make sure you’re okay… </em>he thinks, mind flashing back to earlier today, how unreachable Taichi had been, crumbled on the floor, eyes squeezed shut and shaking. Yamato takes his lower lip into his mouth thoughtfully.</p><p>Taichi sighs and squirms a bit closer. “You have to go,” he murmurs, lips pressing up against Yamato’s neck. “This is an insanely cool opportunity. You’d be an idiot if you stayed home because of me. I’m just going to lounge on the couch and watch football highlights.”</p><p>Yamato shakes his head, a small smile playing across his lips, despite the anxiety coursing through him. “You’ll come to the local show this time?”</p><p>Taichi laughs again, maneuvering himself so he can swing a leg over Yamato to sit on his lap, pushing his hips downwards. He runs his thumbs over Yamato’s collarbones and Yamato shivers. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Taichi murmurs, as he leans forward to plant a kiss on Yamato’s jaw. “Does this mean I’m your groupie?”</p><p>Yamato slides his fingers into Taichi’s hair, who sits back a bit and their eyes meet. “I don’t know,” Yamato deadpans, smirking, “There’s a fair bit of competition.”</p><p>Eyes widening in mock-horror, Taichi rocks his hips downwards again and leans into kiss Yamato. Yamato barely suppresses a moan.  </p><p>“Well then, I guess if I want to win the honour, I should get in some practice,” Taichi says, as he slides down of Yamato’s lap, positioning himself between Yamato’s legs and Yamato looks down, arousal colouring his cheeks, as Taichi’s fingers move deftly to unbutton his jeans.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I should give credit where credit is due, as I think my subconscious may have stolen the Jurassic Park movie part from Zozoa's fic "Onwards Full Speed". I didn't notice until the end and then I liked it too much to go change it. Anyway, you should go read Zozoa's work, as it's adorable and funny and lovely: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25956343/chapters/63095173 </p><p>Spoiler alert about the movie, I guess.</p><p>Cheers folks for keeping reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Backwards Walk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter warnings: much angst, some fluffy cute digimon stuff, and a NSFW scene in the second section (if you want to skip this, stop reading at: "Yamato places his palm on Taichi’s face..." and pick up again at the next line break).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong> <strong>Chapter Twelve: Backwards Walk</strong> </strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong><em>Yamato</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong><em>"I'm working on my faults and cracks</em><br/>
<em>Filling in the blanks and gaps</em><br/>
<em>And when I write them out they don't make sense</em><br/>
<em>I need you to pencil in the rest."</em><br/>
<em>-Backwards Walk, Frightened Rabbit</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>Mimi was not lying when she said this was fancy camping</em>, is Yamato’s first thought when he lays eyes on their accommodations for the weekend. The cabin is huge—bigger than anything he’s ever stayed in, next to Devimon’s mansion. The rustic log cabin is built into the slope of the hill, the roof composed of big slanted arches framing the wrap-around veranda and giant windows, which provide the owner with an unobstructed view of the lake, coloured blue and bright between the rows of trees on either side of the pathway leading down to the water’s edge.</p><p>“Wow,” Sora breathes, stepping out of the van Yamato’s dad borrowed from the television studio and coming up behind Yamato. The other occupants of the van all pile out, murmuring their own versions of ‘wow’ as they stretch their legs. Even Hiroaki gives an impressed whistle. </p><p>“Isn’t it something?” Mimi exclaims, as she bounds over to them, looping her arm over Sora’s shoulder. An excited look is plastered on her face, pleased with her accomplishment of bringing them all together here.</p><p>“This is your idea of camping, Mimi?” Takeru comments, chuckling, as he crawls out of the back of the van to stand next to Iori and gazes up at the fantastical cabin in front of them. Ken and Daisuke pile out of the van behind him.</p><p>“We’ve spent enough time sleeping on the ground, Takeru.” Mimi glares and Takeru holds his hands up sheepishly.</p><p>Behind them, Daisuke lets out a long whistle, “Is your friend a millionaire or something?</p><p>“He’s an associate of my father’s,” Mimi explains, not really answering the question, “I’m not exactly sure what he does… But he was kind enough to let us use it! He’s in Europe for the summer, I believe.” She shrugs and looks around. “Where’s the other car?”</p><p>Yamato follows her gaze down the road they entered by, looking for Jou’s familiar blue car. They make a large group—twelve Chosen, plus Hiroaki and Meiko—necessitating divvying up into two vehicles. Jou, after being pestered by Mimi and Taichi, offered to drive up the rest, given that he’s the only one old enough to have a license. To save space, Koushiro had ushered the digimon back into the Digital World, planning to open up a gate at the cabin now that he’s stabilized the Gate on a more permanent basis. Mimi had promised that despite its remoteness, the cabin was equipped with every luxury they could need, including an Internet connection.</p><p>“They left about an hour after us,” Hiroaki says, from behind the van where he is opening the trunk. “It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive if you do the speed limit.” Yamato’s dad’s eyes crinkle at the edges, and Yamato knows he’s poking fun at Jou’s inability to bend the rules, even slightly, however with Taichi riding shotgun, his ability to maintain steadfast to the rules of the road, remains to be seen. “They’ll be along soon. In the meantime, we can unload.” He takes a backpack out of the back of the car and tosses it at Ken, who catches it, stumbling back slightly with the force. Ken grimaces and Hiroaki instantly looks embarrassed, realizing that he’s just thrown a bag at one of the kids recently released from the hospital.</p><p>“It’s fine, sir,” Ken says, quickly, before Hiroaki can apologize. Daisuke reaches to grab the bag, but Ken shakes his head and adjusts his posture, holding the bag in front of his chest like a shield.</p><p>The four newest Chosen were released from hospital just under two weeks ago, but the aftermath of whatever happened to them is still evident. Ken still seems particularly frail, his willowy form weighed down by some unknown force. Iori looks even smaller and stiffer than usual; he’s barely spoken a word the whole trip up, aside from politely greeting everyone. Daisuke appears to have rebounded slightly faster, but the fourteen-year-old still carries himself with unusually tense shoulders and dark circles under his eyes, indications of someone whose nights are plagued by unwanted memories.</p><p>Yamato recognizes the signs from Taichi, who bears his own exhausted features that he tries to hide with broad smiles and forced laughter, a far-cry from his usual boisterous self.</p><p>Daisuke leans in to grab his own backpack from the trunk of the van and as he does his sleeves fall back on his arms revealing pinpricks of purple flesh, remnants of the blisters and pustules that, according to Sora, covered Daisuke’s arms when they first admitted to hospital. Yamato finds himself staring, only tearing his eyes away when Sora’s hand lands on his shoulder. He turns to look at her, her face open and smiling, and he turns the corners of his mouth up in response.</p><p>“And we can pick rooms!” Mimi squeals, interrupting the morose moment. “There’s four real rooms, an office with futon, and a recreation room we can turn into a room. I have room assignments here!” She pulls out a piece of paper, with names scrawled across it.</p><p>Hiroaki swoops in and pulls the paper out of Mimi’s waving hand. He frowns when he reads it. “I think we’ll be changing these, Ms. Tachikawa.”</p><p>Sora giggles next to him and Yamato turns to her, arching an eyebrow in a question. Sora leans in, whispering, “She put some couples”—adding air quotes around the word—“together. You and me. Takeru and Hikari. Herself and Koushiro.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “I told her it wouldn’t fly.”</p><p>“Definitely not,” Yamato mutters back. Yamato, on the other hand, is selfishly thankful that his dad isn’t devoid of all parenting responsibility, watching as Hiroaki correct Mimi’s room assignments while the pink-haired girl sticks her bottom lip out in a manipulative effort.</p><p>After a few minutes, Hiroaki hands Mimi a corrected list, smiles, and turns to move towards the cabin, to unlock the door and, presumably, claim the master bedroom. Mimi walks back over the group, tell-tale pout on her face indicating she’s lost the argument. She sighs, heavily.</p><p>“Damn,” Daisuke says, grinning, slinging his arm over Ken’s shoulder. “I would have taken Hikari as a roommate, but I’ll settle for Ken.”</p><p>“Shut up, Daisuke,” Takeru snorts, stopping just short of punching Daisuke in the shoulder, pulling his fist back at the last second and returning his fist to his side awkwardly. Daisuke frowns, but turns, releasing Ken, and picks up the cooler of food.</p><p>Yamato shakes his head and walks towards the trunk, moving to unload his own belongings. He’s okay with this situation—it’s likely going to work out to his benefit.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>An hour later, fights over rooms are essentially settled.</p><p>As expected, Hiroaki claimed the master bedroom on the top floor. The other upstairs bedroom was assigned to Hikari and Miyako, with Jou and Koushiro to sleep in the office. Mimi and Sora claimed the bedroom on the main floor for the two of them and Meiko, who was set to be dropped off by her father later that evening. Mimi banished the remainder of the boys to the lower level—a level built below the main entrance due to the cabin being built in the slope of a hill. Downstairs, Yamato pulls rank and claims the den for himself and Taichi, leaving the only room without beds for Takeru, Daisuke, Ken and Iori.</p><p>Hiroaki has already disappeared onto the lake to fish, leaving the Chosen to unpack, when Jou’s blue car finally pulls up in front of the cabin. Taichi’s brown mop of hair and broad smile are instantly visible as he bounds out of the car. On sight, a tightness in Yamato’s gut unfurls. Even though it’s barely been a day since he’s seen Taichi—yesterday evening, in fact, at Koushiro’s, when they’d dropped off Gabumon and Agumon for their brief return to the Digital World—Yamato would be lying if he said that even the short bit of time wasn’t slightly stressful.</p><p>He’s screwed for his tour.</p><p>Taichi and Jou lead the remaining five Chosen into the house, Mimi greeting them with ecstatic hugs. “What took you so long?” she exclaims, as she points them towards their rooms.</p><p>“You said this was just over an hour, Mimi. It’s a two-and-half-hour drive and we are here two hours and forty-five minutes after we left,” Jou grumbles, pointing emphatically at his watch. </p><p>“Jou did the speed limit. <em>Exactly </em>the speed limit,” Taichi chimes in, rolling his eyes. He tosses a bag full of snacks on the kitchen counter. Taichi looks around the room before his eyes connect with Yamato’s and he smiles. Yamato smiles back but forces his feet to remain standing in the living room, restraining himself from going directly to Taichi’s side.</p><p>Koushiro, Hikari, and Miyako, who piled in behind Jou and Taichi, all ignore the comments. Koushiro heaves his computer bag onto the living room table and starts setting up his laptop in order to open the portal. Hikari and Miyako follow a beckoning Mimi upstairs to deposit their belongings.</p><p>“How was the drive?” Sora whispers, low enough only Koushiro and Yamato can hear.</p><p>“Quiet,” Koushiro mutters, as he plugs his laptop into the wall. “Absurdly quiet.”</p><p>Sora’s brow furrows with worry. “They’re still not talking?”</p><p>“No,” Koushiro mutters again, typing in passwords. “And I don’t think Miyako is too keen on this trip, so”—he pauses, looking up at them both—“it was quiet. I found myself trying to make small talk. I asked about <em>football.</em>” He pulls a face.</p><p>“Taichi seems okay,” Sora says, looking over at Taichi who’s already pulled Daisuke into a headlock, both laughing as the younger struggles to pull his head out of Taichi’s grasp. Sora looks at Yamato for his assessment.</p><p><em>Taichi is so far from okay</em>, is what he thinks, and what he wants to say. But, instead, Yamato just shrugs, murmuring, “He’s been pretending since the second he reappeared.”</p><p>Koushiro nods in agreement and then stands up. “Portal’s ready,” he announces, and everyone crowds in, Mimi, Miyako and Hikari bounding back down the stairs to rejoin the group. Koushiro clicks a button and after a surge of electricity, twelve digimon land neatly in the living room. Then, it’s as if a radio that is stuck between multiple stations gets turned up to full volume—all the digimon launch themselves towards their partners, and two dozen voices fill the room. The air next to him is a flurry of blue fur and red scales and pink feathers as Piyomon flings herself at Sora full force, knocking the girl backwards, and Tentomon hovers over, landing gently in Koushiro’s arms. Gabumon plods towards Yamato more slowly, nuzzling into his leg fondly.</p><p>The most emotional reunions are for the four Chosen of the younger cohort—Daisuke, Ken, Miyako, and Iori embracing their digimon tightly. Tears instantly start falling down Miyako’s cheeks, wetting Hawkmon’s feathers. Ken looks to also be on the verge crying, and Daisuke and Iori look similarly relieved to see their partners. Yamato feels a tinge of guilt as he embraces Gabumon: he’s essentially had Gabumon by his side every minute since Ordinemon’s downfall, but this is the first time those four have been reunited with their partners since the whole debacle begun. It’s the first opportunity Koushiro has had to reunite them, partly due to hospital visits and their families fretting, but also because they’d needed to <em>find</em> V-mon, Wormmon, Hawkmon and Armadimon.</p><p>Finding the missing digimon was a side mission that Koushiro had taken upon himself, using a computer program to triangulate their digital signatures, before recruiting Taichi and Agumon to go and retrieve the four digimon from one of Gennai’s old safe houses. Taichi hadn’t even mentioned this side-mission to Yamato, just told him he was hanging out with Koushiro one day while Yamato was rehearsing.  He’d found out after the fact, when Taichi had casually let it slip that they’d tracked down and retrieved the four of them.</p><p>When he’d found out, it had felt like the air was being sucked out of Yamato’s lungs. He’d felt it all over again: the earth shifting beneath his feet; hands shoving him as the ground cracks; the sense of panic as the dust rises; and then nausea filling him as Taichi falls. It had all come rushing back, the horrible da capo that still, almost a month later, leaves his chest tight and head pounding.</p><p>Taichi had gone <em>back</em>. He’d gone to the Digital World. <em>Anything</em> could have happened. The instinct to hold on to Taichi and never let go or let him out of his sight had been reinvigorated within Yamato that day, if it had ever tempered in the first place.</p><p>“Where are we sleeping?” Taichi’s voice breaks Yamato out of his thoughts and he rips his eyes away from Ken and Wormmon’s now teary embrace. Taichi and Agumon are standing at his side, Taichi’s head tilted to the side as he waits for a response.</p><p>“Downstairs,” Yamato sputters, off-balance after being torn from his thoughts.</p><p>“Show me?” Taichi says, grinning, and Yamato nods.</p><p>Next to them, Agumon sighs. “No! Lake!” he protests, stamping his foot.</p><p>“In a bit,” Taichi replies, frowning, “I want to throw my stuff in the room.”</p><p>“I’ll go with you, Agumon,” Gabumon interjects, in his sleepy, gentle tone.</p><p>“In the lake?” Agumon asks, surprised.</p><p>“Well, no. But I’ll come down there,” Gabumon clarifies. Agumon nods, reluctantly, and the two digimon disappear out the front door with a last pointed look at their partners.</p><p>Yamato chuckles, unsurprised at his partner’s choices—both to accompany Agumon to avoid an argument and to avoid the water. Yamato nods his head towards the stairs leading to the lower level. “We’re downstairs.”</p><p>“Lead on,” Taichi says, mock bowing. Yamato rolls his eyes, maneuvering past a few others and jogging down the stairs to the den that will be their bedroom for the next two nights.</p><p>Once downstairs, Yamato pushes open the door and leads into the fair-size room, consisting of a double bed and a connected bathroom. Taichi whistles upon entering the room, closing the door behind him and fiddling with the door handle, locking it closed. “This is nice,” Taichi says, eyes scanning the room, before pulling back the curtains of the window in the room, facing the rear of the cabin, to look out into pure forest. “Real nice,” Taichi adds, taking in the view, before letting the curtain fall closed again. “So—a room to ourselves.” Taichi grins, turning back to face Yamato. His grin is contagious, and Yamato finds himself grinning back. “How lucky your dad insisted on separating guys and girls.”</p><p>Taichi takes a step towards Yamato, pulling Yamato in by the neck until their lips meet, hard and hungry. Taichi steers Yamato backwards, Yamato’s knees knocking against the edge of the bed and he falls back, gracelessly, Taichi landing on top of him. Yamato’s hands come to the edge of Taichi’s shirt, brushing against his skin, as they both melt into each other.</p><p>“Yamato? Taichi?” comes Sora’s voice from the other side of the closed door. Yamato pulls back from the kiss abruptly, head whipping towards the closed door. Taichi turns his mouth to Yamato’s neck, ignoring the intrusion.</p><p>Yamato places his palm on Taichi’s face to push Taichi away and off of him. ‘Stop’ he mouths. Taichi grins again—that fucking wicked grin—and widens his eyes, shaking his head no. He leans forward to nip at Yamato’s earlobe. “Better answer her,” he whispers in Yamato’s ear, a tongue running down Yamato’s jawline, fingers skimming hipbones under the hem of Yamato’s black muscle shirt.</p><p>Yamato rolls his eyes. “What?” he responds to Sora, as Taichi’s hands slide down to the buttons on Yamato’s jeans. Yamato tries to shove them away, shaking his head.</p><p>“Are you guys settled?” Sora asks. The button of Yamato’s jeans snaps open, and Taichi lowers himself to his knees, planting a kiss right above the line of Yamato’s boxers.</p><p>Taichi grins up at Yamato, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not quite yet,” he calls, as his thumbs hook over the edge of Yamato’s boxers, pulling them over his hips. “Changing.”</p><p>“Everyone is heading down to the lake,” Sora informs them, as Taichi’s head dips, tongue drawing a line from Yamato’s naval straight down.</p><p>He tilts his head, giving a hard suckle on Yamato’s inner thigh. Yamato jolts. Taichi grins and takes a breath, exhaling hotly over the tip, and then Yamato feels the sharp sensation of hot mouth on his cock. Yamato lets out a low groan, before a hand clamps down on his mouth.</p><p>“Are you guys coming?” Sora calls again, impatiently.</p><p>Yamato had already forgotten about her; his brain barely processing her words through his pleasure, as his best friend’s tongue swirls. Taichi looks up at Yamato—mouth still on his cock—meeting his eyes with a look underwritten with heat. Yamato’s pulse quickens and another low groan escapes. Taichi’s eyes seem to glint as he side-eyes the door, wide brown eyes saying ‘reply, idiot’, as he sucks Yamato in deeper.</p><p>“In a bit,” he manages, thanking whatever god cares to listen that Taichi locked the door. He leans back on one elbow, the other hand tangling itself in Taichi’s mop of hair as an anchor for himself, to help restrain any noise that wants to make it past his throat.</p><p>“God, Yamato, do you really need to fix your hair if we’re going in the lake?” It’s Mimi teasing lilt now, seemingly joined Sora outside the door. Yamato can barely hear her; his world has narrowed to only include himself and Taichi.</p><p>“You guys better come join us,” Sora scolds.</p><p>“Just fuck off, Sora,” Yamato snaps, stifling a gasp. As he replies, he can feel Taichi’s mouth stretching into a smile around him for a beat, before he closes his mouth and sucks tightly, encasing more and more of him. Yamato leans back as his mouth opens in a silent, breathy moan.</p><p>“No need to be rude, Yamato,” Sora snaps back.</p><p>“Ugh, just leave them,” Mimi says to Sora, annoyed. Yamato barely hears their footsteps running back up the stairs.</p><p>Taichi takes Yamato deeper into his mouth, moving his tongue back and forth on the bottom of Yamato’s shaft. Yamato tightens his grip on Taichi’s hair, brushing it out of his face so he can watch the outstanding visuals. He moans, audibly this time. Taichi looks up at him and holds his gaze, never breaking eye contact. Yamato drives his pelvis up, reflexively, pushing himself slightly into Taichi’s mouth, whose lips slacken around the pressure.</p><p>Taichi’s sucks hard, letting Yamato probe deeper in the back of his mouth, at the edge of his throat, and flicks his tongue in <em>just </em>the right way which causes Yamato to throw his head back— “Taic—fuck…”</p><p>Yamato only lasts another second before he comes in Taichi’s mouth, choking out a moan of deep pleasure that he hopes is quiet. Taichi pulls off of him after the last weak spurt, coughing, but swallowing. He wipes away the trail of spit, grinning as he regains a steady breathing pace, face flush with blush and arousal.</p><p>“You evil bastard,” Yamato murmurs, when Taichi returns to eye level with him. Taichi laughs softly and kisses him.</p><p>“You seemed to enjoy it,” Taichi retorts when the kiss breaks, eyes twinkling. “Should we join everybody else?” He kisses Yamato again and then turns to leave the bedside.</p><p>“They can wait,” Yamato says, catching Taichi’s hand, yanking him back to him and they both fall back onto the bed.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Taichi kisses Yamato’s knuckles before dropping them as they step out of the den—at least half of them changed into swim-gear and both ready to join the others, most of whom are already outside. Taichi’s gone in a flash and Yamato spends the rest of the afternoon catching glimpses of him buzzing from Chosen to Chosen, by all appearances the life of the event, if it wasn’t clear to Yamato exactly what’s he’s doing: damage control.</p><p>Yamato watches him flutter around pretty much everyone— helping Sora and Mimi unload all the food; disappearing out onto the dock with Ken and Daisuke; slinging his arm around Miyako’s shoulder, guiding her down one of the nearby hiking paths; and eating lunch with Jou and Iori. All before Koushiro taps him on the shoulder, laptop in hand, and not fifteen minutes later the two of them push off in a canoe, drifting aimlessly around the lake. After about an hour, they return and Koushiro promptly retires to the indoors, leaving Taichi to resume his buzzing.</p><p>By late afternoon, the majority of the Chosen and the digimon are in and around the lake, enjoying the sun, the water, and the company, the sky bright and clear above them. Even Jou ends up the lake for a bit, unable to resist Gomamon’s pleas to play in the water, joining Taichi and Agumon, returned from their canoe adventure, and Mimi and Palmon in a water-war. Yamato and Gabumon supervise from the sidelines, dipping their feet in the water from a spot on the dock. After twenty-minutes-or-so of trying to not get to wet, they cede the dock territory to Hikari, Tailmon, Takeru, and Patamon, and take refuge in the shade of giant cypress tree, a short distance from where Sora and Piyomon are sunbathing.</p><p>“Did you get wet?” Piyomon chirps at Gabumon when they sit down.</p><p>Gabumon shakes his head. “Almost. Taichi splashed Yamato.</p><p>“Intentionally,” Yamato adds, for clarity’s sake, frowning as he uses his towel to dry his hair. Sora chuckles softly, before laying her head back down on her pillow and closing her eyes. Yamato glares at her from behind his sunglasses, but is unable to hold the expression too long, the overall atmosphere of the day cracking a chip even in his coolish demeanour.</p><p>Flicking his glance up, Yamato catches the sight of Iori waving to Miyako before heading down a trail with Armadimon, leaving Miyako and Hawkmon to read under a tree. Nearby the water-fight, Daisuke and Ken push a canoe out on the water, accompanied by their partners. Taichi yells something at Daisuke, but the younger google-head shakes his head, and leans back to propel their canoe forward with a long stroke, leaving the dock behind. Yamato can see a frown flicker across Taichi’s face before he corrects it, plastering back on his broad smile.</p><p>A few minutes later, Jou jogs towards the shade, a bright angry burn already appearing across his shoulders. He shakes off his towel and takes a spot in the shade next to Yamato. “I swear I <em>slather </em>on sunscreen,” he sighs, tugging his shirt over his head.</p><p>Yamato reclines against the tree, his own shirt—never once removed—providing a layer of protection against both the sharpness of the tree bark and the sunlight. “Sun’s strong,” he agrees, unhelpfully.</p><p>“Better than rain,” Sora calls gently from her spot in the sun. </p><p>Yamato opens his mouth to argue the merits of sun versus rain, when Mimi retreats from water and flops down beside him. “It is such a shame your dad insisted on separating boys and girls, Yamato,” Mimi sighs once seated, starting to dry herself on Jou’s towel.</p><p>“It’s practical,” Jou retorts, pulling his towel back from Mimi.</p><p>“Responsible,” Sora chimes in.</p><p><em>Beneficial, </em>Yamato thinks, smiling to himself. Taichi barely stays over anymore, and Yamato’s grateful for the excuse to have him spend the night.</p><p>“But boring!” Mimi says, rolling her eyes. She pulls Jou’s towel back and places it under her, rolling onto her stomach, placing her head in her palms and kicking her legs back and forth in the air. “Come on Sora, it would have been nice. You can have Yamato,”—she kicks Yamato lightly with her foot and he swats her away—“me and Koushiro. I’m sure Hikari and Takeru wouldn’t mind a room to themselves.” Mimi blinks her eyes dreamingly.</p><p>“They’re fourteen, Mimi,” Jou reminds her, voicing Yamato’s thoughts aloud.</p><p>“At fourteen I was—”</p><p>“No!” Jou says loudly, covering his ears. “I don’t want to know!”</p><p>“I was—” Mimi tries again.</p><p>“No!” Jou says, louder still. Sora snickers. Piyomon and Gabumon exchange confused looks, before the two of them wander away, leaving the humans to their devices.</p><p>“Oh, come on, Jou, you prude!” Mimi looks over at Sora. “Help me out here.”</p><p>“I think it’s nice that we’re sticking with Meiko, given she doesn’t know everyone,” Sora chimes in calmly, instead of helping. Yamato adverts his eyes, unwilling to meet either girl’s gaze. Girls talk, so Yamato’s pretty sure Mimi knows exactly how far Sora and he have gotten over their on-again-off-again—definitely now off-again—relationship.</p><p>“Maybe Mei Mei would have liked to spend the night in Taichi’s room,” Mimi teases, still looking at Sora. Something in Yamato’s gut lurches, a flash of possessiveness pulsing in his chest at the comment, his eyes flickering to the water where Gomamon and Palmon are still playing, only to find that Taichi and Agumon have disappeared from sight.</p><p>“Meiko and Taichi?” Sora muses.</p><p>“I think she likes him,” Mimi replies softly, low and teasing. “And why not? Taichi’s cute.”</p><p>Sora sits up and shrugs. “Yeah, he is.” She tuts softly under her breath. “I just don’t see it.”</p><p>“Oh, come on!”</p><p>“I don’t know…. He’s so… <em>Taichi,</em>” Sora says, shrugging. “Loud. Bold verging on reckless. Constantly on the move. She’s… not.”</p><p>“I think it would be cute. Guy with a hero complex meets damsel in distress type of vibe.” Mimi shifts so she can look over her shoulder. “Yamato, what do you think?”</p><p>Yamato blinks a few times behind his sunglasses, startled. “Uh,” he says aloud, intelligently, trying to think of something innocuous to say about the idea of Meiko spending the night—or dating, or whatever Mimi has in mind—with Taichi, the guy he’s spent the majority of the last month making out with. Not that he’s going to volunteer <em>that </em>particular piece of information.</p><p>“Yamato!” Mimi kicks him again, after he takes too long to respond.</p><p>“Stop kicking me!” Yamato snaps, swatting her foot away again. “I know nothing. We don’t talk about that.” It’s not entirely untrue, they’ve never once spoken about <em>that</em>.</p><p>Mimi pouts and looks to Jou. “We’ve also never once spoken about that,” Jou rushes to say, looking mortified. “Also isn’t that sexist or something? She’s not in <em>distress.</em>” All three of them give noncommittal shrugs at that and Jou mutters something intelligible under his breath, before looking around for an escape. Seeing Miyako walking in their general direction he waves enthusiastically and shouts at her: “Miyako! Join us.”</p><p>Miyako continues walking towards them, seemingly her intended direction regardless of Jou’s oddly enthusiastic invitation. “Sora,” Miyako says once standing in front of them. She looks uncharacteristically shy, looking down at the ground and shuffling her foot across the ground. “Sorry for interrupting. Do you think… Could we…” Miyako pauses and purses her lips. She looks down and to her right to Hawkmon, who nods curtly, prodding her to say whatever she is there to say. The young Chosen-girl sighs, and continues: “Could you switch rooms with me?”</p><p>Sora looks surprised, gazing up at Miyako. “Oh,” she starts, taken aback, “I suppose—”</p><p>“What’s wrong with your current room?” Mimi butts in.</p><p>A smile swiftly appears on Miyako’s face, all-too broad and seemingly forced. “Nothing!” she says, quickly. “I just really want to spend time with you, Mimi. And get to know Meiko!” She twists a piece of lavender hair around her finger, rubbing the strands between her thumb and index finger, both with nails bitten into nubs. Miyako catches Yamato looking and quickly crosses her arms over her chest.</p><p>“But—” Mimi begins, but Sora cuts her off.</p><p>“Of course, Miyako,” Sora says, kindly, “We can switch. Let’s go do that now.” She stands up and wraps her arm around Miyako’s shoulders, leading her away from the group and towards the house, Hawkmon flying behind them.</p><p>Mimi flops back down on Jou’s towel. “That was weird.”</p><p>“Maybe…” Jou trails off, looking contemplative. He pushes his glasses back on his nose before reaching back to wrench his towel out from under Mimi. “Be nice to her, Mimi.”</p><p>Mimi opens her mouth to argue, but before she can, a black sedan pulls down the driveway in front of the cabin and she springs to her feet. “Mei Mei’s here!” she squeals, jumping up and running barefooted to greet her.</p><p>Jou sighs as she scampers away. “Girls,” he mutters.</p><p>“And this is why you don’t have a girlfriend,” Yamato teases, trying to ruffle Jou’s feathers, although he whole-heartedly agrees.</p><p>“I have a girlfriend!” Jou exclaims, incredulous.</p><p>Yamato laughs and waves his hand in front of his face. “Relax, Jou. I’m only kidding.”</p><p>Jou mutters something under his breath again, before standing, wrapping his towel around his neck. “I’m going to go get water and apply some aloe vera to this burn,” he tells Yamato, “Need anything?”</p><p>Yamato shakes his head, before reclining it back against the tree again and closing his eyes as Jou walks away, with every plan to relax for a bit before Sora comes back, or Mimi returns with a reluctant Meiko in tow, or Taichi shows his face around the area again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There’s a tap on Yamato’s shoulder not ten minutes later, stirring his peace and causing him to crack an eye. “Yamato?” Gabumon standing next to him holding a small beach bag.</p><p>“Yeah, buddy?”</p><p>“We have to go for a walk now.”</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>Gabumon nods and starts walking a few paces, before turning and waving his paw at Yamato. Yamato scrunches up his face in confusion, but tugs on his sneakers when Gabumon continues to wave his paw incessantly. He throws his towel on a lounging chair as he walks by it, before following Gabumon down nearby trail. Gabumon leads the way, the small beach bag slung over the digimon’s back, as he keeps a steady pace, sniffing the air every few minutes, while also constantly looking behind him to make sure Yamato’s still following.</p><p>“Where are we going?” Yamato asks, when it starts to become apparent that Gabumon is on a mission, rather than just going for a leisurely walk.</p><p>“Not sure,” Gabumon muses, “I’m just following the trail.” He sniffs again when they arrive at a split in the path. “This way!” he announces, turning right to head down a path that will take them near the water.</p><p>Yamato kicks a rock down the path and starts to follow when a large crack echoes through the trees, punctuated by a gasp and a thud. Yamato’s head swivels, trying to pinpoint the sound. “What was that?” Yamato asks, as they both turn to stare down the path they didn’t choose. Gabumon peers through the trees, sniffs the air and they both follow his nose a few paces down the other path, pushing into the tree growth until a small open area appears.</p><p>There, next to a fallen log, sits Iori and Armadimon, the twelve-year-old’s arms wrapped around the digimon’s neck, crying softly. He startles when Yamato pushes back a branch, head jolting upwards and his arms quickly come to his face to wipe away the tears staining his cheeks.</p><p>“Iori, are you hurt?” Yamato asks, looking around for what made the crack sound, before noticing the broken branches littering the ground.</p><p>“No,” Iori sniffs, biting at a shaky lip, “I’m fine.”</p><p>Yamato shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Tentatively, he asks, “Do you want to tell me why you’re all the way out here?” It’s been a long time since he had a conversation with Iori, the sizeable age gap meaning that interactions are infrequent, and the newer Chosen have always been more Takeru’s friends than Yamato’s. In fact, the last time he was alone with Iori was probably when he interrupted Yamato’s band practice to ask about Takeru, right before the two of them jogressed for the first time</p><p>“Just wanted to go for”—Iori sniffs again, eyes barely dry—“a walk.”</p><p>“We were practicing some kendo,” Armadimon reports, voice steady, as he lets Iori lean against him.</p><p>“Can we keep you company?” Gabumon pipes up and without waiting for an answer, Yamato strides over and takes a seat on the ground next to the youngest Chosen.</p><p>“We could use some company,” Armadimon says, softly, prodding Iori gently with his snout. “Right, Iori?”</p><p>Iori nods, reluctantly, and Yamato settles in on the ground, leaning against the fallen log. They sit quietly for a few minutes, Iori sniffling once in a while, ducking his head into his shoulder once in a while to wipe away rogue tears.</p><p>“Not that practicing kendo isn’t fun,” Yamato says, softly, after a minute without any sniffling, “But wouldn’t you rather be back at the cabin spending time with Takeru and the others?”</p><p>Iori picks up a stray stick from the ground, holding it in both hands and starts beating it lightly against the ground. “They probably haven’t even noticed I’m gone,” he replies, starkly.</p><p>“I’m sure they’ve—” <em>noticed, </em>Yamato almost finishes, but stops himself, seeing the bitter expression clouding Iori’s young face. Yamato’s mouth snaps shut.</p><p>“I doubt it,” Iori whispers. “Takeru definitely hasn’t. We’re not friends anymore.” Another tear falls down his face and Armadimon tilts his own forward, wiping it away with his nose. Iori offers the digimon a small smile, leaning into his shell.</p><p>“I…” Yamato starts, before trailing off, utterly baffled as to what to say.</p><p>“It’s okay, Yamato,” Iori mumbles, “You don’t have to say anything.”</p><p>“No, that’s not it—”</p><p>“I know that I’m a lot younger than everybody. And I go to a different school,” Iori responds, his breath hitching as he speaks. “We don’t have a lot in common. Of course, he—they—didn’t notice.” The last word comes out mangled, as Iori releases a sob and hunches over.</p><p>Yamato lurches forward, hesitantly embracing the younger Chosen, as he struggles to get back his composure, apologizing profusely between sobs. “I’m sorry,” Yamato murmurs, patting Iori awkwardly on the back, “We should have been there. We’re here now.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Fifteen minutes later, Iori’s regained enough of his composure to depart back to the cabin. He apologized profusely again, bowing several times as he brushed off Yamato’s attempts to walk him back to the cabin, promising instead that he and Armadimon would be okay on their own and would head straight back, with the intention of helping whomever was preparing dinner. Yamato hesitated, but relented.</p><p>“He’ll be okay,” Gabumon murmurs, “Armadimon will take care of him.”</p><p>Yamato nods, gut twisting watching the young Chosen depart down the path. “Okay,” he agrees, finally. “Should we continue following whatever path Taichi’s set you on?”</p><p>“Taichi didn’t—” Gabumon tries to lie, but Yamato levels Gabumon with a look. “Okay, yes… This way!” Gabumon agrees, sheepishly, turning down the path he’d originally tried to steer them down.</p><p>About ten minutes down the path, the forested area opens up into a small inlet, sheltered from the larger lake the cabin is settled on. The edges of the inlet are slightly rocky in places, raised up above the water, at one point high enough creating a small cliff area that one could jump off into the inlet, providing the water is deep enough. Which, apparently, it is, as just as Yamato and Gabumon come out of the forest, an ecstatic giggle rings through the area as a flash of orange jumps off the cliff and lands with a splash in the below water.</p><p>“Let’s do that again!” Agumon squeals as he resurfaces. They come into view as Taichi tows the digimon towards a slope in the ground where Taichi can hoist them out of the water. Taichi’s laugh fills the air and Yamato smiles, grateful to hear something pleasant after his encounter with Iori. He and Gabumon pick up the pace, until they’re standing right above the ledge that Taichi and Agumon are swimming towards.</p><p>“Hey,” Yamato says, crouching at the edge.</p><p>Taichi’s face brightens the second he sees Yamato. “Took you guys long enough!” he exclaims. “Thanks for getting him here, slow-poke,” he says to Gabumon, aiming a little jab at the digimon, but ending it with a wink to soften the words. He boosts Agumon out of the water, who goes to greet Gabumon.</p><p>“We ran into Iori,” Yamato replies, softly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and letting go with a pop. Taichi’s face falls slightly and he nods, as if he knows.</p><p>“Help me out?” he asks extending a hand. Yamato eyes the hand, extending his tentatively. Taichi grins as his hand connects with Yamato’s, yanking the second he has a good grasp, sending Yamato, fully clothed, shoes and all, tumbling over the edge and into the water with a splash.</p><p>Yamato surfaces with a yelp, “Damnit Taichi!”</p><p>Taichi laughs, ducking under the water to avoid a stray fist that Yamato aims in his direction. He comes up on Yamato’s other side, arms quickly encircling Yamato’s waist. He guides Yamato back, pushing him against the rocks at the edge water, where it swoops upwards to create the ledge Yamato used to be standing on. At the edge, they can touch, the water hovering just below their shoulders. Once they can find approximate footing, Taichi’s mouth dips, kissing the side of Yamato’s neck. Yamato jumps slightly, trying to look around.</p><p>“Nobody can see us from the lake,” Taichi murmurs, slowing making his way up Yamato’s throat to his jaw. “I checked when I was out on the canoe. Plus, the digimon are keeping an eye out.” Yamato relaxes, just as Taichi connects with his lips.</p><p>“My clothes are soaked now,” Yamato murmurs against Taichi’s lips.</p><p>“Whoops,” Taichi murmurs back, his bare chest pressing against Yamato. His hands wander, peeling back the soaked material to slip his hands up the back of Yamato’s shirt.</p><p>“These are the only pair of shoes I have with me,” Yamato rumbles, before teasing open Taichi’s mouth with his tongue, as he runs his hands down Taichi’s back.</p><p>“Oh, no. I’m the worst, aren’t I?” Taichi replies, teasing, eyes wide as he moves back from the kiss.</p><p>Yamato moves his hands into Taichi’s mop of hair, bafflingly still standing upright despite being wet. “Absolutely,” he confirms, tugging Taichi’s mouth back to his. <em>Mine</em>, he thinks, pushing Mimi’s theories out of his head, and immersing himself in the feeling of <em>Taichi </em>against him.</p><p>A bit later, they pull themselves out of the water and finding a relatively grassy part to lay down on. Taichi stretches out instantly, while Yamato strips off his shirt and shoes, attempting to wring them out to help dry them.</p><p>“Damn it, Taichi,” Yamato mutters as he smacks his sneaker against the ground and water sprays everywhere. “I like these shoes.” He tosses them into the sun where his shirt is laying, pulls a towel from the small beach bag Gabumon brought with them.</p><p>Taichi grins, eyes closed and face gazing up towards the sun. “Oh, I’m sorry, <em>Monsieur Vogue</em>,” he teases.</p><p>Yamato hits Taichi’s shoulder lightly with fist, before leaning back, laying down next to Taichi. “Shut up,” he mumbles without any heat behind it, and they both do, settling into a comfortable silence, so just the forest sounds and the distant rumble of their digimon’s voices can be heard.</p><p>“Is Iori okay?” Taichi asks, after a while.</p><p>Yamato shrugs, opening his eyes to look over at Taichi. “I don’t know, really. He’s upset…” he trails off, picturing Iori’s teary face. His gut twists again, thinking of his inability to say anything helpful.</p><p>“Because we didn’t find them,” Taichi finishes, heaving a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I know. Can you blame them? They were missing for almost two months, and we did… We did nothing.”</p><p>Yamato twists his head to look at Taichi. “We tried—”</p><p>“Barely,” Taichi cuts him off, and, despite his desire to believe to contrary, Yamato finds himself agreeing. “We just trusted Himekawa. Even after we saw Gennai pretending to be Ken, we trusted Himekawa. And the Agency lied to us.” He shakes his head, grass rustling beneath his hair. “We owed our friends more.”</p><p>“Is that what you’ve been talking to all of them about today?”</p><p>Taichi nods, shifting his head to look over at Yamato. “Yeah. Mostly. Trying to… make up for things. I don’t know how we can.”</p><p>“Miyako asked to change rooms with Sora,” Yamato adds, softly, pieces of the puzzle falling into place.</p><p>“I know, I told her to ask Sora,” Taichi clarifies, “She didn’t want to have to spend extra time, or anytime alone, with Hikari. Apologized to me for that, thinking I’d be mad on behalf of my sister.” Taichi chokes out a mangled laugh. “They’re mad at all of us, I think. But… Miyako and Iori are especially angry with Hikari and Takeru. Their partners. Their jogress partners didn’t come through for them, and they’re justifiably angry.”</p><p>Yamato bites down on his lip. He’d gotten that sense from Iori too. Whatever they went through was horrible, nightmare material—and it’s compounded by knowing that their jogress partners either couldn’t, or didn’t, come after them.</p><p>“And Daisuke’s mad on their behalf. And in general. He doesn’t get it either. Doesn’t understand. Couldn’t ever leave Ken that way… Would search forever...” Taichi trails off, he pushes his palms against his eyes before dropping his hands to the ground in frustration.</p><p>Yamato’s heart feels like it’s in his throat. Looking straight up to the sky and taking a deep breath, Yamato asks, “Do you feel the same way about me? You… disappeared, and I carried on with everyone else. I didn’t come after you.”</p><p>Taichi rubs his eyes again, raking his hands down his face before letting out a vexed, “That’s not the same.”</p><p>Frustrated—more so with himself than anyone else—Yamato protests, “Maybe I should have stayed. I would have come back for you. You were alone…”</p><p>There’s a pause and Yamato can hear Taichi inhale. “I wasn’t alone, Yama,” Taichi says, finally, so softly Yamato has to strain to hear him even though he’s right next to him, their forearms brushing as they both lay on the grass. “Nishijima was there. He didn’t die… right away.”</p><p>“I don’t understand. You said he died during the fall,” Yamato stammers, confused. His mind races through everything Taichi’s told him over the past month, every word he’s uttered about the time they were separated.</p><p>“No,” Taichi responds, not meeting Yamato’s eye. “You said that. I just didn’t correct you.” Taichi pauses again.</p><p>“Taichi—” Yamato starts, but closes his mouth again sharply as Taichi picks up his train of thought.</p><p>“We ended up somewhere when we fell. I’m not sure where exactly. He was bleeding… a lot. I’ve never seen someone bleed so much,” Taichi whispers, eyes falling shut, arms crossing and tightening around his chest. “And there was only one way out. Only room for one.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “He made me go… and he died there.”</p><p>“Taichi…” Yamato’s voice feels shaky; he barely recognizes it. His heart is pounding in his chest, guilt freezing him from the inside out, as he internalizes what Taichi’s just told him. He’s<em> here. </em>He’s <em>alive, </em>but only because Nishijima let him—or made him—come back to Yamato.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Taichi says, quickly, before Yamato can say anything more. “But you can stop feeling guilty for not being there. I wasn’t alone.”</p><p><em>Except when you were, </em>Yamato thinks, a variety of emotions raging through him: sadness, guilt, frustration. Profound gratitude. Immense fear, given how close Yamato was to losing him: one person’s choice away. “I’m sorry, Taichi,” Yamato whispers, unsure of what emotions his face displays, as he desperately tries to keep it neutral. Taichi nods, a pained look flickering across his face. “Taichi—"</p><p>“It’s fine,” Taichi says, cutting him off, then swiftly changing the subject back to their previous topic. “I understand why they’re upset. I don’t know… I can’t…” He trails off, biting his lip as he frowns.</p><p><em>Understand how they didn’t notice their jogress partner was missing, </em>Yamato finishes in his head, knowing exactly what Taichi can’t bring himself to say, can’t bring himself to condemn both their siblings. “Me neither,” Yamato says, softly.</p><p>“If you were…”</p><p>“I know. Same.”</p><p>Yamato’s hand falls off his stomach and hits the ground, reaching for the hand he knows without looking is already there. Their fingers intertwine quickly, both squeezing.</p><p><em>I’d notice. I’d feel it. I’d find you. I’d tear worlds apart to find you, </em>the squeeze says.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The red numbers on the clock are flashing 03:00 when Yamato wakes abruptly; the boy sleeping beside him surging to a seating position, with a muffled scream. Taichi’s hands clutch the bedsheets tightly as he gasps for breath.</p><p>“Taichi?” Yamato sends the word out into the world hesitatingly, sitting up on his elbows. He reaches over to touch Taichi’s elbow. Taichi reels his arm back, head whipping towards Yamato; when their eyes meet, Yamato sees only fear. The look has a near instant effect: Yamato’s stomach constricts and the sense of dread and unease surges within him. “Taichi?” he asks again, softer this time, still reaching for the other boy.</p><p>“Don’t touch him.” Agumon appears at his side, voice gentle, placing his claw on Yamato’s arm. Yamato looks to the small dinosaur, a question on his face but yielding to the digimon, removing his hand. “Just let him be for a second,” Agumon continues. He turns back to his partner, saying softly, “Taichi? You’re okay, you’re here with me, and Yamato, and Gabumon. You’re safe.”</p><p>Taichi’s breathing is still heavy, but his eyes have focused on Agumon. “It’s not really happening, Taichi. It’s just a dream,” Agumon tells him. Taichi’s eyes seem to soften, and Agumon places a claw delicately on Taichi’s arm. “Do you know where you are?”</p><p>Taichi’s fists release the sheets. His breathing slows slightly, and he reaches out a hand to touch the side of Agumon’s face. The digimon nuzzles into it.</p><p>“Cabin…” Taichi answers, looking around him. His eyes focus on parts of the room, pausing at random intervals, focusing on spots, and taking steadying breaths. His eyes finally find Yamato’s and there’s a flash of a hunted expression in there, before recognition sets in. Yamato tries hard not to flinch. “Hi,” Taichi breathes, sliding his hand out to touch Yamato’s fingers.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Yamato whispers, his voice thick with unease, afraid for the response. Yamato hesitantly intertwines his fingers with Taichi’s. He’s been holding his breath, he realizes. His chest is tight, but each breath loosens it a little bit.</p><p>“Just give me a second,” Taichi croaks. He squeezes Yamato’s hand before swinging his legs out of bed. His steps are uneven as he heads to the attached bathroom, closing the door behind him. Yamato feels his pulse quicken when the door shuts and he strains himself to hear movement behind the closed door, needing to hear Taichi existing if he’s unable to see him. There’s a silent moment before Yamato can hear hiss of the water.</p><p>Gabumon’s paw tightens around his arm. “It’s okay, Yamato,” Gabumon whispers, trying to reassure him. He offers his partner a small smile, before turning to look at Agumon, who is still standing at the foot of the bed, in front of where Taichi was just sitting.</p><p>“He has bad dreams a lot now,” Agumon offers, eyes sad, staring at the closed door.</p><p>Yamato fights the lump in his throat, clearing his throat before asking, “A lot? What’s… a lot?”</p><p>“Pretty much every night,” Agumon replies, sadly. The digimon looks smaller and more tired than usual. “We don’t sleep a lot anymore. I asked Jou what I should do when they happen,” he adds, as if sensing the question Yamato has yet to voice.</p><p>Yamato reaches over to scratch Agumon’s head, smiling softly. Gabumon rests his head on Yamato’s shoulder, as the three of them wait, anxiously, for Taichi to return. Yamato can hear Taichi rustling around in the bathroom, which comforts him slightly, but he’ll feel better when he can see Taichi. Although it’s been almost a month since Taichi came back to him, and he still can’t shake the need to have him in his sight at all times. He still feels compelled to stare at him, checking to make sure he’s still there, still existing, and still with him. Moments where he wants to sit Taichi down on a couch, stare at him and run his fingers down every inch of his body, just to make sure every piece of him is intact. Unable to relax unless Taichi’s arms are wrapped around him.</p><p>A few minutes or an eternity later, the bathroom door opens and Taichi re-emerges. He smiles thinly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m okay,” he says, answering Yamato’s question, as he crawls back onto the bed. He murmurs something to Agumon, too low for Yamato to hear.</p><p>“Sorry I woke you.” Taichi settles back into the pillows. Yamato sneaks his arm behind Taichi and pulls him in. Taichi relaxes slightly, resting his head on Yamato’s chest. The digimon curl up at their respective sides and it isn’t long until Yamato can hear both Gabumon and Agumon’s deep breathing, evidence they’ve both fallen back asleep. Yamato rests his head against Taichi’s unruly hair, breathing in his scent and repeating to himself: <em>he’s here, he’s alive, he’s with me. He’s here, he’s alive, he’s with me. </em>It’s a mantra that he finds himself repeating to himself daily, trying to ground himself and squash his fear.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” asks Yamato, lifting his head, finally breaking the quiet that has set in. Taichi doesn’t respond and Yamato wonders whether to push it. They’re quiet for a few minutes again, before Yamato finally picks up the thread again.</p><p>“I have them too, you know,” Yamato murmurs, softly, his fingers drawing shapes across Taichi’s back and along his spine. Taichi makes a small questioning noise in response, so Yamato continues: “Dreams. Nightmares, whatever you want to call them. It replays for me: us running, the ground crumbling, you trying to outrun the ground...” his voice trails off, unable to say the last part. He takes a deep breath, tracing a scar on Taichi’s shoulder with a calloused finger. “Sometimes... sometimes you don’t come back to me.”</p><p>Taichi reaches over and laces his fingers through Yamato’s unoccupied hand. Once intertwined, he raises their hands to his mouth, kissing the back of Yamato’s hand; then they come to rest on Yamato’s stomach.</p><p>There’s a long pause before Taichi begins to speak, quiet and slow. “I watched him die,” Taichi whispers, studying their hands. “And in the dreams… I see it happening. I’m trying to get to him because Nishijima’s is bleeding—he’s drenched in blood—and I want to save him. I should save him. I keep trying—I try really hard—but I can’t, I can’t save him. So, I watch, as he dies in front of me. Over and over again.”</p><p>Yamato’s arm tightens around him and he presses his face into Taichi’s hair. He has to remind himself to continue to breathe, as he listens to Taichi. His heart skips a beat at the confession, fear percolating in the back of his head. He concentrates on their linked hands—Taichi’s hand has always made him feel grounded. Still, he doesn’t know what to say, so he just kisses the top of Taichi’s head, hoping that the gesture conveys the right thing.</p><p>“We’re supposed to protect people... the world... two worlds,” Taichi continues, voice still quiet, but a trace of bitterness in it. “But instead... I let him die. He saved me, and I did nothing. And I let Gennai, who killed him, get away,” Taichi’s voice breaks. “I should have died there instead...”</p><p>That hits Yamato like a truck.</p><p>“Hey, no...” Yamato pulls Taichi up and towards him, twisting their bodies so that they’re face to face. He cups Taichi’s face in one hand, the other hooks tighter around his waist. His thumb smooths over Taichi’s cheek. “<em>No</em>,” he says, forcefully. “That is not how things end for you—for us. You were not supposed to die there. You saved me, and you came back and saved god knows how many more. And if Nishijima saved you it’s because he knew you’re going to save more people, for as long as you can, because <em>that’s </em>who you are. You’re supposed to be here; you <em>have</em> to be here.”</p><p>There’s a pause where Taichi does nothing in response, and Yamato’s heart feels like it’s pounding out of his chest. Then, finally, Taichi presses his forehead against Yamato’s, star fishing his hand at the side of Yamato’s neck. He presses his lips against Yamato’s, initiating a slow, gentle kiss as his only response. They cling to each other.</p><p>“You have to be here with me,” Yamato whispers, when they break apart. “I can’t lose you, ‘Chi. I can’t.”</p><p>Taichi nods, half-heartedly, and leans into him, tucking his face into Yamato’s chest. Yamato lies there, clutching him, as Taichi drifts back to sleep, as if he would slip away if Yamato dared to let go. Yamato’s not sure how long he lies there, awake, holding and wishing profusely for a way to protect this boy, while the warm bodies of their partner digimon press on either side them, an odd little family, but one that he needs.</p><p>And one that he’ll do <em>anything</em> to hold onto.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the longest chapter yet coming in at JUST under 9000 words. Yikes! Hopefully it held up through the whole thing. Also I think every Chosen minus Hikari speaks in this chapter? And at least four digimon!</p><p>A note on the NSFW stuff: I considered not including the NSFW scene, but I couldn't help myself (and it wasn't enough content to merit it's own standalone piece, maybe we'll get another one of those soon). But I am trying not to include too many NSFW references, and I'll always warn you when I do. (Anyway, sorry to the some of you who might not like this, please let me know if it bothers you too much. I'd hate to lose readers for something that can be easily edited out)</p><p>If you enjoyed, please leave me a comment! See you next chapter (some of it's written already, so shouldn't be too long)!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter warnings here: some minor drug (marijuana) use in the first section, some underage drinking in the last.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Fourteen: The Lost Art of Keeping A Secret</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>“Still can't believe there is a lie, </em><br/><em>Promises promise, an eye for an eye</em><br/><em>We've got something to reveal</em><br/><em>No one can know how we feel.”</em><br/><em> The Lost Art of Keeping A Secret, Queens of The Stone Age</em></strong>
</p><p> </p><p>When Taichi wakes the next morning it’s early. So early that he actually has to throw on a sweatshirt to combat the chill in the air, after he gets out from under the sheets. It’s quite the effort, maneuvering himself to the edge of the bed without disturbing Yamato or the two digimon, but he manages. Barely. As he’s tucking a pillow under Yamato’s arm to take the place that he just vacated, two red eyes appear, peeking over Yamato’s side at him with a question behind them. Taichi raises his finger to his lips to keep Gabumon from speaking, before gesturing to the door and pumps his fists up and down a few times in an exaggerated jogging gesture. It’s a lie, but it seems to placate the digimon, who closes his eyes again and snuggles back up against Yamato. The other two don’t stir, however Yamato’s grasp around the pillow tightens slightly.</p><p>Easing himself out of the bedroom, Taichi tries to silence his footsteps as he creeps up the stairs and towards the main door. He doesn’t want to wake anyone—it’s just after five o’clock in the morning and while he’s running on around three hours of sleep, there’s no reason anyone else has to be awake. He’s getting more and more used to this anyway; the luxurious hours he used to spend sound asleep have been replaced by nightmares, causing him to wake up in a cold sweat at random intervals throughout the night, heart racing, and unable to ease himself back into dreamland, for fear that it only consists of glass cylinders, maniacal laughing, and the colour red.</p><p>There’s a reason he doesn’t spent the night at Yamato’s anymore.</p><p>Once outside, Taichi breathes a bit easier. The sky is just beginning to show the colours of a weak dawn, pearly blue and warm yellow—he’s always enjoyed summer mornings, the air still cool, but holding the promise of a sweltering afternoon. Trying to internalize the calm, he eases himself onto a rock near the water’s edge, settling in to watch the golden haze of the sunrise crest across the water. It’s almost eerily quiet, the mellow chirping of birds the only sound he can hear. It’s reminiscent of nights in the Digital World where he’d take the early morning guard duty and would sit and watch the sunrise while the others caught a few more precious minutes of sleep. The colours are more subdued, the sounds are different, and he lacks Agumon beside him at the moment, but if he closes his eyes, he can pretend.</p><p>Everything was simpler back then.</p><p>Sometimes Taichi wonders if he knew then what he knows now whether he would have wanted to be in charge. If he would have signed up to be the leader. Or seized leadership as his, rather. If eleven-year-old him would had knowledge of the choices, and the pain, and the nightmares, maybe that eleven-year-old would have chosen a different path. Maybe he would have handed the responsibility of leadership over to someone else and blissfully fallen in line—or maybe eleven-year-old him would have had the courage, or been foolish enough, to do everything the same.</p><p>It’s a lot to bear on one’s own, Taichi knows this. But it’s also a lot to expect others to deal with, especially when so many of them are clearly hurting so much.  Last night, in fact, is the most he’s ever told anyone. And given that he essentially woke up screaming in Yamato’s arms, there was nothing he could do except tell him. So, now Yamato knows: Nishijima’s dead, Gennai killed him, and Taichi watched him die.</p><p><em>And he knows that you did nothing to help him, </em>Taichi thinks, as his heart starts to race. That familiar pulsing starts to creep up in the back of his head, as his chest tightens, and the electric shock of panic starts to course through his body.</p><p>His hands shake as he takes a quick look around to see if anyone is watching. They continue to tremble as he fumbles with the zipper on his shorts pocket, digging for the tin he acquired from Tomohiro a few weeks ago. The tin he keeps filling with the pre-rolled joints, continuing to buy them off Tomohiro when he sees him on the fringes off Yamato’s band practices. The drummer quietly hands them over without asking many questions, off to the side so Taichi can pretend Yamato doesn’t notice. Even though Yamato clearly does, if the scowl on his face is anything to go by, however hypocritical given the cancer-sticks that Yamato continues to inhale on a semi-regular basis.</p><p>Taichi inhales slowly once the joint is lit and held loosely between his lips. He knows it’s terrible for him; he doesn’t need anyone to tell him that. And it’s a shit coping mechanism. And he can’t help wondering, vaguely, the effect of these on his lung capacity and how that’ll fuck him for football season. But, in the moment, it works. It smooths out the edges of his brain that are spikey, better than anything else that he has at his disposal.</p><p>And he needs to keep his head on straight. This weekend more than most. He’s got to keep himself together, because he has to pull the rest of the team back together. He’s seen first-hand how much the younger Chosen are suffering—and the fear, anger, and sadness that engulfs them—and he knows how angry Hikari still is, how resigned to being on her side Takeru has become, and he’s sure that the others are struggling in some way, somehow. And it falls to him, self-appointed leader, to string them all back together.</p><p>So, he can’t lose his mind this weekend. He just can’t.</p><p>He smokes half of the joint from his perch on the rock, bending to pick up rocks, tossing them into the water, and watching as rings form in the water as they land. The combination of slight high and the rippling is enough to distract him—mostly—from his thoughts; he barely hears the crunching of the grass behind him, only recognizing it at the last second. He spins, awkwardly, on the rock to turn to face the newcomer, snuffing out the joint behind him.</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep either?” Daisuke says, once Taichi’s eyes land on him. Daisuke’s lips tip upwards in a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and his face bears signs of exhaustion. Taichi tenses at the sight. Daisuke looks small underneath the hood of the blue sweatshirt he’s wearing, which shades his face in a way that reminds Taichi of the way he looked trapped behind the glass of the pod.</p><p>People have always teased the two of them for how alike they are—both active, extroverted, maybe ever-so-slightly rash, if Taichi is to admit that—but Taichi’s always thought they were more dissimilar than people saw. For one, he doesn’t think he’s ever borne the same self-assurance or blind optimism that Daisuke exudes. Now, looking at the kid—wearing the same goggles atop his head that Taichi gave him three years ago—Taichi sees the same look he sees in his own reflection: tired, tense, and eyes haunted by something only he can see. He wishes profusely they didn’t share that in common.</p><p>Taichi shakes his head both in response to Daisuke’s question and to try to remove the image of pod-Daisuke from his head. Simultaneously, he tries to discreetly shove the tin into his short’s pocket, so Daisuke won’t see it. If the younger Chosen smells anything, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “How are you doing after… everything?” Taichi asks, hesitantly.</p><p>“Okay,” Daisuke answers, slowly. “Good days and bad days, you know?”</p><p>Taichi nods—he knows, better than he’s willing to let on. He offers Daisuke a small, tired smile.</p><p>“Haven’t been sleeping much since we got released from the hospital,” Daisuke adds, as he comes up to stand next to where Taichi’s perched. “Nobody has really.” He frowns. “Ken says the nightmares might not go away entirely, but they’ll get easier to deal with. At least that’s what he’s found with his dreams about the dark spores.”</p><p>“That’s… reassuring…” Taichi says, tentatively, not entirely convinced.</p><p>Daisuke shrugs one shoulder. “Not really.”</p><p>Taichi finds himself nodding again, without much enthusiasm as he steps down from the rock. He doesn’t find it reassuring either, the idea of being unable to sleep for the rest of his life without seeing Nishijima die over and over again.</p><p>“Are you mad at me?” Daisuke asks, in a small voice.</p><p>Taichi hesitates, scooping a smooth rock off the ground and wanders towards the water, where it laps gently at rocky edge. “I’m not mad,” he replies, finally, sighing. He takes the rock and throws it, skimming it across the water. “Yeah, you should have called me. You shouldn’t have gone alone.” Taichi frowns, picking up another rock and clenching it in his hand. “But… we should have been there. In the first place, and if not then, we should have found you after.”</p><p>“It just happened so fast, Taichi!” Daisuke protests. His shoes scrape against the ground as he stumbles to follow Taichi to the water. “There was something weird going on. Ken could feel it, so we thought it might be coming from the Dark Ocean—maybe, Demon, you know, trying to get back to the Digital World? And I knew what you’d do—you’d go investigate, see what was happening. Like the when I met V-mon for the first time! You went to investigate something odd by yourself, and everything turned out fine.”</p><p>Taichi grimaces as he listens, holding the rock tighter in his hand, the rough edges cutting into his palm. ‘<em>That’s not the same’, </em>he wants to shout at Daisuke, at the petulant fourteen-year-old. But it is, it is the same.</p><p>“And I was already hanging out with Ken, so it’s not like I went alone,” Daisuke adds, earnest and insistent. “Ken said we had to tell Miyako, as she always gets mad when we go to the Digital World without her. And she was tutoring Iori that day, so they both tagged along. There were four of us, together. I thought we could handle it! We were just checking things out. A tiny glitch between worlds. You’ve handled way crazier things.”</p><p>Taichi clenches his teeth. “It wasn’t just a glitch, Daisuke…”</p><p>“Yeah, but I didn’t know that until we were already there.” Daisuke frowns. “And then we were already in trouble, and then Alphamon appeared…” He trails off, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.</p><p>“That’s why we have a team! That’s what Koushiro is for. What I’m for. That’s why we work together,” Taichi says through gritted teeth, throwing the rock angerly in the water.</p><p>Daisuke looks to the side, away from Taichi. “I know…”</p><p>“You should have called me. Or if you not me, then someone else. Hikari. Takeru. Yamato.”</p><p>Quietly, Daisuke mutters, “Hikari and Takeru probably wouldn’t even have come.”</p><p>“Daisuke,” Taichi sighs, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. He lowers his tone, trying to hold back his anger; the kid beside him already looking embarrassed and uneasy, eyes pink at the corners. He’s not even angry with Daisuke. He’s angry with himself. “We all failed you. <em>I </em>failed you. Not just them.”</p><p>There’s a long pause between them. Daisuke scuffs his toe against the ground, clearly uncomfortable. Taichi sighs and loops his arm around Daisuke’s shoulder, ruffling the younger boy’s hair with one hand.</p><p>“If you need anything, <em>ever, </em>you just ask, okay?” Taichi says, nudging Daisuke with his elbow as he lets go. He bends to the ground and picks up two smooth rocks, handing one to Daisuke.</p><p>“Okay,” Daisuke mumbles, before falling quiet again. He clutches the rock in one hand, watching as Taichi skim his own rock across the water. The rock hops four times before falling into the lake.</p><p>“Your turn,” Taichi prods.</p><p>Daisue takes aim, throwing the rock to skip it across the water—it hops two times and then sinks. Daisuke scowls, before setting upon finding his own rock. He crouches near the ground, shuffling through rock piles trying to find the best rock, competitive nerve obviously pinched. Taichi sets about finding more rocks for himself, shoving a few good ones in his pocket.</p><p>Returning to a standing position, Taichi waits patiently while Daisuke investigates a few more rocks, peering at them earnestly. Then they both take aim, skipping a few in succession, counting their hops aloud, Daisuke scowling each time Taichi wins the count.</p><p>“You didn’t fail us though,” Daisuke says, after a while, after celebrating a successful-five hops. “You saved my life. You saved all of our lives.”</p><p>“I didn’t do anything,” Taichi murmurs back, not meeting Daisuke’s eye. His gut clenches, remembering the way Daisuke and the others’ silhouettes looked in those pods. Vulnerable. Frail. Ghostly.  </p><p>“Bullshit,” Daisuke says. He skips another rock. “Four again.”</p><p>Taichi throws another rock, taking time to aim. “Five,” he says, ignoring Daisuke’s questioning.</p><p>“I know it was you, Taichi,” Daisuke replies, as he looks for another smooth rock. “Koushiro said that whoever pulled us out of the Digital World did it from inside. He also told us you fell into a Digital hole or something—but managed to get yourself out.” He picks up a suitable rock, pausing while he winds up and lets it go at the right angle. “Five for me too.”</p><p>Taichi doesn’t bother to respond, as he picks another smooth rock from his pocket and skims it across the water. It wasn’t him that saved them anyway. The only reason any of them, himself included, are alive is because of Nishijima. All Taichi did was get lucky and get saved by someone much braver than himself—someone he abandoned to die alone. Sure, once back in their world, he managed to drag the pods to a position where they’d be easily found, and paused to call the ambulance, before running off to locate Yamato and the others. But he didn’t save anyone. Nishijima did that.</p><p>“Eight. Damn, you’re good at this,” Daisuke laughs, and Taichi finds himself cracking a small smile, grateful to hear the noise. Daisuke cuts his laugh short and turns towards Taichi, posing with his hands on his hips. “You can deny it if you want, Taichi, but I’m not as dumb as people think I am. I know it was you.” He nods sharply to emphasize his point, and then bends picks up another rock and quickly flicks it; it falls after three hops. “Damn,” he grimaces.</p><p>“Nice try,” Taichi offers. He holds out another rock.</p><p>“Thanks,” Daisuke says, taking it. Both of them throw the rocks at the same time: seven hops for Daisuke, nine for Taichi. “And thanks, for getting us out of there.” Taichi sighs and opens his mouth to protest, but Daisuke, in an action uncharacteristic of the rambunctious youngster when speaking to Taichi, waves his hand dismissively to shush him, and speaks first: “I don’t know how you did it, or what it took, but thank you, Taichi.”</p><p>Daisuke stares at him; eyes wide, waiting for a response. Taichi meets his eye for second and nods curtly, as much as acknowledgement as he’s going to give Daisuke. Then, he carefully averts his eyes, and the two of them set about finding more rocks.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>By the time the others awaken, the claim Taichi made to Gabumon about jogging is no longer a lie—skipping rocks inevitably gets boring, so Taichi and Daisuke set about running the hiking trails around the cabin. Three quarters of an hour and around eight kilometres later, the two athletes end their run by abandoning their shirts on the shore and jumping into the lake in their shorts.</p><p>“Isn’t that cold?” Sora yells at them from the dock, meandering out around eight-thirty, holding towels. Ken stands beside her, bundled in a black sweatshirt, arms crossed in front of his chest.</p><p>“Freezing,” Taichi chuckles, swimming up to the dock and offering his hand to Sora. “Wanna join us?”</p><p>“No way,” Sora chuckles, waving her hand in front of her. She jumps to the side as Taichi and Daisuke hoist themselves out of the water, the latter of which flings his arms around Ken, giving the other boy a soaking wet hug. Sora tosses a towel at Taichi, who grins at her as he starts to dry himself off.</p><p>“Daisuke…” Ken grimaces, pushing a wet Daisuke away from him.</p><p>Daisuke smiles as he takes a towel from Sora. You should have gotten up earlier, Ken,” he exclaims. “We went for a run.”</p><p>“Can’t run,” Ken reminds Daisuke, pointing to his ribs. “Doctor’s orders.”</p><p>Daisuke’s eyes widen in instant horror. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot.” Daisuke says, sheepishly. He frowns. “Did my hug hurt you?”</p><p>Ken smiles, shyly, and shakes his head. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“Good,” Daisuke adds, softly, before spinning to face Sora. “I’m starving now,” he announces, grinning and looping an arm around Ken’s shoulders. Taichi nods in agreement, his stomach already growling.</p><p>Sora laughs. “Well, good thing they’re making breakfast inside,” Sora tells them. She turns and grins at Taichi. “Mimi roped Yamato into helping her in trying to make American-style pancakes for everyone. He is, as you can probably guess, absolutely thrilled about this and not at all grumpy.”</p><p>Taichi laughs and bumps his shoulder lightly against Sora’s. It’s a recipe for disaster, not pancakes; Yamato being a terrible grump when he first wakes up, and Mimi always charged with boundless enthusiasm, regardless of the hour. “Poor Mimi…”</p><p>“Poor Mimi?” Sora muses, arching an eyebrow. “Poor Yamato.”</p><p>Taichi and Sora exchange matching looks, both bursting into laughter. Taichi loops a now-dry arm around Sora’s shoulders, planting a kiss on the top of her head, as the four of them start to walk back towards the house.</p><p>As suspected, the kitchen is crisis zone. Flour, cartons of milk, and bowls are spread out over island counter, which is covered with a light dusting of the mix. Yamato and Mimi are in the centre of the kitchen, arguing back in front of the stove, while at far side of the kitchen, Koushiro stands, quietly cutting fruit into a bowl. Takeru, Patamon, Gabumon and Agumon sit at the kitchen table, marveling at the kitchen drama happening around them.</p><p>“Mimi!” Yamato snaps, moving out of her way as she darts in front of the stove. “I am ninety-precent sure you actually need to let them <em>set </em>before flipping them, otherwise what’s the point.”</p><p>Mimi rolls her eyes and flicks pancake batter at him, which lands on Yamato’s cheek. “They’ll continue cooking once you flip them, Yamato, you don’t want them to burn.”</p><p>Yamato brushes the batter off his cheek, grimacing and tossing it on the floor. He waves his hand at the stove, exasperated. “They’re not anywhere near burning, Mimi; you’re feeding everyone uncooked pancake batter.”</p><p>“Fine, you do it!” Mimi snaps, thrusting the spatula into Yamato’s hands. “I’ll deal with the eggs after.”</p><p>Yamato growls. He takes the spatula before it drops to the ground, but holding it back out for her to take back. “I don’t want to do it. I’ve never made American-style pancakes before. You lived there,” he argues. Mimi glares at him.</p><p>Taichi clears his throat. “Um,” he interjects, before one of them spontaneously combusts. “Do you guys need help?”</p><p>Yamato and Mimi both spin on their heels to face Taichi and Sora, standing at the edge of the kitchen area. “No,” they say in unison, pointedly in Taichi’s direction.</p><p>Mimi squeaks by Yamato and grabs Sora’s hand. “Sora, you can take over for Koushiro cutting fruit,” she says, leading Sora to the counter. She takes the knife from Kosuhrio and hands it to Sora. “He’s slow.”</p><p>“Sorry?” Koushiro mumbles, falling back a step or two, and plopping down on kitchen chair, next to Takeru who is also watching the mad cooking show unfold with a grin on his face.  </p><p>“You,” Yamato says, pointing at Taichi, “Out. Nobody needs to be set on fire.”</p><p>Taichi laughs, grinning at Yamato, who scowls back and turns his attention back to the stove. “I guess I’ll go change?” he muses, shrugging in Sora’s direction, who mouths ‘save me’.</p><p>“Save yourself,” Koushiro mumbles, seeing Sora’s theatrical plea, as Taichi passes him on his way to the stairwell.</p><p><em>Whatever it takes</em>, he resolves, as Mimi makes motions for him to move away, <em>I’m going to enjoy today. </em>He sticks his tongue out at Yamato as he makes his way to the staircase, which is met with an affable shake of Yamato’s blond locks. Agumon gets up to follow him, and Taichi greets his partner with a fond rub on the top of the digimon’s giant head. <em>Just try to enjoy today.</em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Despite the drama of the morning’s cooking show, breakfast turns out well. There’s more than enough for everyone and the kitchen is soon filled with everyone’s voices, people filling their plates, taking a seat in various areas around the main floor and sprawling out onto the wrap around veranda. The smell of breakfast coaxes Hiroaki down to fill his plate, staying in the kitchen long enough to remind the group to mind themselves and be careful, earning scowls from the Taskashi-Ishida boys as they wave their dad away and shoo him back upstairs to work.</p><p>“Taichi, more pancakes than that!” Agumon pleads a bit later. He stretches to his full height to attempt to see the top of the island counter as Taichi fills both their plates, having abandoned Yamato, Gabumon, and the other older Chosen on the veranda in search of second helpings of pancakes.</p><p>“Okay, okay,” Taichi chuckles, “How many do you want?”</p><p>“At least six,” Agumon says, definitively. Taichi chuckles again, tossing six more pancakes on top of the three already on Agumon’s plate and handing it down to the greedy digimon. Agumon’s eyes are as big as saucers, staring at the plate in glee.</p><p>“Good?”</p><p>“For now,” Agumon responds. Taichi shakes his head fondly, as he continues piling food on his own plate.</p><p>“Taichi?” a tentative voice says, from behind him.</p><p>Taichi spins around, awkwardly balancing his plate on one hand, and taking a step back further into the kitchen in order to face the owner of the voice. In front of him is Meiko, standing awkwardly with one hand playing with the bottom of her oversized grey sweatshirt and the other one pressing her glasses into the bridge of her nose. His gaze follows hers to where she’s staring at her feet, avoiding his eyes entirely.</p><p>“Hi, Meiko!” Agumon greets, cheerfully, before Taichi can say anything. Taichi’s stomach twists with nervous anticipation of what she’s going to say next and he can feel his throat going dry.</p><p>“Hi, Agumon,” Meiko says, blushing as she lifts her head slightly to look at the digimon.</p><p>“Meiko,” Taichi manages, “Hi.”</p><p>“Hi,” she says again, cheeks growing pinker.</p><p>Despite the anxiety rolling around in his stomach, Taichi also feels a tinge of annoyance as he waits for the girl to spit out what she wants from him. He swallows hard, clearing the lump from his throat. “Uh, do you need something? We’re almost done in here,” he says, gesturing to the plate. “We’ll get out of your way.” He takes a step to the side to let her by him.</p><p>She shakes her head, looking up slightly so Taichi can see her eyes, behind her red-rimmed glasses. “Um,” she murmurs, “Actually, I was wondering if you—unless you’re busy”—she punctuates her interjection by ducking her head down as she sneezes, then stumbles into her next words—“but if you aren’t busy, maybe, we could talk?” Her face is now tinged red and she averts her eyes again.</p><p>His stomach lurches. He can only imagine what she wants to talk to him about. A million-potential explosive, emotional trains of thought, beginning with ‘how dare you’ and ending with ‘you killed her’. Tens of thousands of ways of asking him how he could possibly call himself a friend, a leader, a <em>Chosen Child</em>, when he was willing to dispose of a digimon partner. A thousand questions ranging from will she ever see her digimon partner again—no, probably not, would be the answer—to how he could be so cruel—he doesn’t know and he’s sorry, would be his only response. Dozens of rationalizations that he could supply, trying to justify what he did, knowing that in the end, it’s still unforgivable.</p><p>So, it surprises even him when he finds himself placing a smile onto his face and replying, “Sure, we can talk.” Her face brightens a modicum, and at that, Taichi begins to place down his plate. Agumon’s grip tightens on his own plate, even though there’s only three pancakes left on it, the digimon having been snacking the entire time.</p><p>“You can bring your food,” Meiko says, meekly, “We can talk at the table outside near the trees?”</p><p>There’s too much anxiety bubbling in his stomach to eat. “Oh, I’ve decided I’m actually not—"</p><p>“Bring it, Taichi!” Agumon chimes in, unhelpfully. “I’ll eat, if you don’t,” he adds, starting to walk towards the door. Taichi grimaces internally but picks his plate back up, offers Meiko a small smile and gestures for her to follow Agumon.</p><p>Her hands both come down to the edge of her sweatshirt, twisting the fabric at the bottom between her fingers, but she obediently follows Agumon to the door and Taichi reluctantly falls in line. Agumon pushes open the door, leading them past the group gathered on the veranda—Yamato, Mimi, and Sora’s heads all snapping up at the sound of the door.</p><p>“Hey! Come join us,” Sora calls, cheerfully, patting the spot next to her. Meiko hesitates, but Taichi shakes his head and presses lightly on her shoulder to keep her moving forward, knowing this conversation has to happen sooner or later. He may as well get it over with.</p><p>“We’ll be back in a bit,” Taichi replies, trying to smile reassuringly at his friends, before prodding Meiko off the veranda. Yamato’s face is essentially unreadable, lips twisted uncomfortably, as his gaze drifts from Taichi to Meiko and back again. Sora’s face softens when she meets Taichi’s eye, and Mimi’s breaks out in a smile, whispering something to Sora which is met with Sora’s hand lightly hitting the other girl in the chest.</p><p>Once at the table, Taichi swings his leg over the bench and sits sideways, straddling the bench facing Agumon, who hops up beside him. Meiko takes a spot across from him, placing her hands atop of the table, as she nervously rethreads her fingers over and over again. Taichi hesitantly places a bite of pancake into his mouth as he wonders how long he’ll have to wait for Meiko to speak.</p><p>“These are good,” Agumon mumbles, between bites of pancakes, either oblivious to the tension or smoothly ignoring it.</p><p>Meiko giggles. “They are, aren’t they?” she says in response to Agumon’s musing. She smiles at the digimon, looking slightly more at ease.</p><p>The corners of Taichi’s lips turn up, watching Agumon munch on pancakes. He folds another slice of pancake between his fingers and plops it into his mouth, still unsure whether he’s supposed to start this conversation. Meanwhile, Meiko’s giggle has ceased and she’s tapping her fingers on the table. When Taichi’s gaze follows the noise, she abruptly stops and moves her hands to underneath the tabletop, likely playing with the edge of her sweatshirt again.</p><p>“My father told me you talked to Mr. Takamasa,” Meiko says, finally, staring Agumon’s mostly empty plate.</p><p>Taichi nods. “Yeah,” he replies, slowly, “We spoke a few weeks ago.”</p><p>“He’s pleasant,” she adds, nodding, “Hime always said nice things about him. And his wife.”</p><p>Taichi shrugs in response, his recollection of his two meetings with Takamasa not being what he considers pleasant. The entire encounter just dredging up details he doesn’t want to think about, forcing him recount the worst moment of his life. Sort of like this conversation.</p><p>“He’s apparently very athletic,” Meiko muses. She then blushes, before adding, “Sort of like you.”</p><p>“Oh,” Taichi says, unintelligently. Agumon’s out of pancakes, and as Taichi’s stomach feels queasy, he pushes the plate towards his partner, who excitedly reaches out for Taichi’s remainders.</p><p>She looks embarrassed at his lack of response, stifling a noise into her shoulder. “I just meant—” she starts and stumbles, “I was upset once, and he tried to help me. With sport.” She wrinkles her nose.</p><p>“That’s cool,” Taichi replies, trying to sound more enthusiastic.</p><p>She pauses for an awfully long time, while Taichi kicks himself mentally for his lack of conversation skills.  “My father also said that,” she says, finally, very shyly, “well, that you reported that Mr. Nishijima died…” She looks to the side, off into the trees. “Is that true?”</p><p>Taichi nods, slowly. Then, realizing she’s still not looking at him, he answers aloud, “Yeah, it’s true.”</p><p>She sniffs, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Oh,” she murmurs, still staring off into the trees. “And Hime?” she whispers, eyes darting to meet his for the first time. She looks lost, eyes wide with questions, looking for some sort of comfort from him.</p><p>“Hime?” he finds himself repeating. Agumon shifts closer to him and Taichi reaches out to make contact, desperate for the support. “You—” he clears his throat and forces himself to look her in the eyes. “That’s what you want to talk to me about? Himekawa?”</p><p>“Yes,” she stammers, rushing out her words, “I know she did terrible things and hid things from you, and maybe you don’t care what happened, but I—”</p><p>“I don’t know what happened to her,” Taichi says, cutting her off.</p><p>Her face falls. “Oh.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says. Beside him, he sees Agumon stretch out a claw, touching Meiko’s hand where it now lays on top of table.</p><p>She nods her head up and down a few times. Her hands flips over, so it can cup Agumon’s claw in her palm. “That’s what my father said…” she whispers, a tear slipping down her face, “I thought maybe you just didn’t want to tell them. Given what she did.”</p><p>Taichi rakes a hand through his hair. “Even so, I wouldn’t lie,” he promises. “If I knew, I’d tell you.” He cracks a small smile in her direction to emphasize the point.</p><p>“Okay,” she concedes, and they drift back into silence.</p><p>“Sorry, Meiko,” Agumon chimes in.</p><p>Meiko smiles, weakly, at Agumon. “Thanks, Agumon.” She pats the digimon’s claw, still cupped in her palm, with her other hand.</p><p>Taichi clears his throat, finding himself in need of clarification. His stomach twists again, as he asks, “Is this… the only thing you wanted to talk about?”</p><p>She stops looking at Agumon in order to meet his eye again. “Oh,” she says, softly, “You thought I wanted to talk about Mei.”</p><p><em>Yes. Don’t you? </em>he thinks, feeling like he’s going to throw up. <em>Why wouldn’t you want to… confront me? Yell at me? I took something from you. Destroyed your best friend. </em>He feels profoundly on edge, knowing he has to sit here and take whatever slew of anger she wants to unleash on him, even though there’s a part of him that just wants to run.</p><p>“I mean, yes,” she adds, face tinging red ever-so slightly, “I guess I—”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Taichi blurts out, apologizing for what feels like the hundredth time this weekend. “I’m sorry I took her from you. I know you must hate me and honestly, I don’t blame you. I’d hate me too. There was just no other way. I didn’t know how else to protect everyone…” The words tumble out of his mouth, unrehearsed and rambling, until he trails off at the end and lets the words hanging helplessly in the air.</p><p>The words hang there for an awfully long time, while turmoil circles in his stomach. He looks down at his hands, unable to keep looking at her while he can clearly see tears welling up in her eyes, a single one falling down her cheek.</p><p>Finally, she whispers, “I don’t hate you.”</p><p>His head snaps up and he looks over at her in surprise, as her words don’t match the internal monologue that he’s been repeating to himself over the past few weeks—<em>failed leader, failed friend, failed brother. Deserter, murderer, coward. Monster. </em>A constant refrain in his head.</p><p>“But I,” he starts, swallowing to clear his throat, “I destroyed your partner.”</p><p>She draws her hand back to wipes her eyes, smearing tears across her cheek. “She was in pain,” she says, still barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to keep seeing her in pain or watch her hurt anyone else.”</p><p>“I—” he starts, but the words die on his lips, his mouth dry. His mind races to find something to say, something that doesn’t contradict his guilt or dig further into Meiko’s pain.</p><p>“It felt like you understood,” she adds, when Taichi doesn’t say anything more. She takes a deep breath to steady herself.</p><p>“Of course, Taichi understood,” Agumon says, staring wide-eyed at Meiko, having long stopped munching away on pancakes. Both Taichi and Meiko’s heads swivel to look at the digimon. “He’s had to watch me do bad things.”</p><p>Meiko looks startled and Taichi nudges the digimon to get his attention. “That’s not the same thing, Augmon,” he says, shaking his head harshly, knowing instantly what Agumon is referring to—images of dark spirals and bones and cavities and dark evolutions filling his head.</p><p>Agumon frowns. “Our friends managed to save me, but—”</p><p>“It’s not the same,” Taichi insists, forcefully, silently willing his partner to be quiet. His chest feels tight, both from what he views as an unfair comparison and from the memory of being that helpless, that defenseless, that unable to protect his partner. “We could break those spirals. We freed you!”</p><p>“You didn’t know that at the time,” Agumon corrects him. He turns back to Meiko to continue his story, telling her: “I was captured and forced to do very bad things. Taichi tried to protect me, but he couldn’t, and I fought and hurt our friends—”</p><p>“Agumon—”</p><p>“Gabumon, Tailmon, Patamon, and V-mon, managed to save me but Taichi didn’t know that was possible and he still told our friends to fight me,” Agumon continues, determined and ignoring Taichi’s interjection.</p><p>Meiko looks at him. “I knew it seemed like you understood,” she says, softly.</p><p>“Meiko,” he asserts, hand gripping the side of the table fiercely, “It’s not the same. We were able to save him. The dark spirals were nothing like the infection that corrupted Meicoomon…”</p><p>“You didn’t know that, Taichi!” Agumon insists, gaze darting back and forth between the two humans. “And you told Gabumon and the others fight me with everything they had, even though we’re friends. You would have—”</p><p>“It’s not exactly the same,” he corrects, interrupting Agumon with a giant sigh, “Yes, Agumon was captured. Yes, he wasn’t himself and was told to fight our friends. Yes, I told our friends to fight him at full strength. But it was a fixable thing—I got him back.”</p><p>“Did you know that you could?” Meiko asks, pulling her eyes from where she has been staring at Agumon to meet his gaze.</p><p>“No,” he admits, holding her gaze, not looking away from the wide-eyed girl who seems to be seeking something. “Not initially.”</p><p>“And if you couldn’t?” she whispers.</p><p>“I—” Taichi starts, heart racing from both guilt and fear. He swallows, pausing for a beat, and reaches for Agumon’s claw with one hand, the other still grasping the table tightly. He meets Agumon’s eye, who nods at him, prodding him forward. Taichi closes his eyes briefly, before breathing out, “I would have told Yamato and the others to kill him.”</p><p>She reaches over and places her hand over his. “Sounds like you did understand then,” she murmurs, squeezing gently before quickly removing her hand and returning it to its place under the table.</p><p>He nods, reluctantly. He does and he doesn’t understand: the dark spirals were a different monster altogether. A temporary and breakable horror. They were nothing like the infection, and yet, he knows that if it would have come down to it—if the choices were watch Agumon hurt his friends or anyone else or destroy him, he would have asked Yamato to do end Agumon’s misery. It would have been a horrible, agonizing ordeal, but he would have done it. He would have rather gone through that excruciating pain than watch Agumon suffer.</p><p>It’s something he recognized in her, during the battle between Omegamon and Raguelmon, when she quietly asked for them to kill her partner. That resignation to a horrible fate. The willingness to suffer an unimaginable agony than to watch her partner continue to be in pain. It’s the reason he agreed; the reason he was willing to be the monster his sister now thinks he is.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Taichi stammers, again, “That I—that you had to make that choice. That we couldn’t save her.”</p><p>She seems goes to answer, but her breath catches in her chest and nothing comes out, leaving her wiping her tears from her eyes with the corner of her sweatshirt. He’s not entirely sure what to do, leaving him awkwardly watching her cry as he fights to keep his own anxiety, pulsing through him like an electric current, at bay. Next to him, Agumon moves off the bench and hops up on the other side, placing his short arms on Meiko’s shoulders and letting her shift in to hug him, resting her head on his small frame as she works to compose herself.</p><p>“Are you okay?” he asks after a while, breaking their silence when he sees Mimi and Koushiro moving in their direction. “Mimi seems to be heading over this way… I can tell her to go away…”</p><p>She shakes her head. “No,” she says in a small voice, letting go of Agumon. “I’ve taken enough of your time…”</p><p>“It’s really okay…” Taichi protests, half-heartedly. She shakes her head again, wiping her face once more with her sleeve, and he tries not to breathe his sigh of relief outwardly.</p><p>“Mei Mei!” Mimi exclaims, when the two of them reach them. “Want to go for a walk with Palmon, Sora, Piyomon, and I? Maybe Miyako and Hawkmon too. Sora, Miyako, and Yamato are cleaning up, but when they’re done, we can go.” She pauses, tilting her head to the side when she catches sight of Meiko’s teary face. “Are you okay?” she asks quickly, frowning. “Taichi, what did you do?!”</p><p>“He didn’t do anything,” Meiko says, quickly, before Taichi can open his mouth to argue. “And I’d love to go for a walk, Mimi.” She stands and takes a step towards where Taichi is already standing. “Thank you, Taichi,” she adds, softly, kissing his cheek before blushing madly and quickly tugging Mimi away.</p><p>Taichi tries not to startle too much at her touch. He raises his hand to his cheek, brushing his fingers against the spot where her lips brushed, feeling awkward and emotionally exhausted.</p><p>“What was that about?” Koushiro asks, standing beside him, his laptop clutched to his chest. He looks concerned; lips twisted, and eyes narrowed as he watches Mimi and Meiko walk away. Tentomon is at his side, looking at Agumon with a degree of trepidation.</p><p>“One less person who hates me, I guess.”</p><p>Koushiro sighs. “I’m glad. But nobody <em>hates </em>you, Taichi.”</p><p>“Tell that to my sister,” Taichi says, shrugging. Koushiro frowns, the wheels clearly turning in his head as he struggles to find something to say. “Don’t worry about it,” Taichi adds, clapping Koushiro on the back and using his hand to propel him forward. “Canoe?”</p><p>“Canoe,” Koushiro agrees.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Being on the canoe is refreshing. Most of the cool air of the early morning has dissipated, leaving a pleasant light breeze that dances though the trees and takes the edge of the heat. Still, it’s hot, and despite agreeing to this canoe trip, Koushiro keeps eyeing the sky with some hesitation as if willing the sun to disappear behind a cloud. Taichi paddles in silence, bringing them to side of the lake and drawing them to the shore as near as he dares. He trys to situate them in some shade, so not to upset his geeky friend, drawn out of his office hideaway and into the brightness of the world—a joke Taichi’s made on more than one occasion this weekend.</p><p>It’s silent on the canoe, partly because they’ve left Agumon and Tentomon back on shore and also because Koushiro is staring at his computer, somehow tethering himself to the internet despite being on a lake, endlessly resourceful that he is. Koushiro nods his thanks once Taichi successfully steers them into the shade; the trees providing both reprieve for his skin and shielding some of the glare off his computer as he types away. Taichi raises his face to the sky, rather enjoying the sunshine, as he attempts to put the morning’s tough conversations with Daisuke and Meiko behind him and turn back to the purpose of today: to have fun.</p><p>Or to try. Even as a million other things filter themselves through his head.</p><p>“Taichi,” Koushiro says, looking up briefly from his laptop. “Why are we still looking for safe-houses? We found the other partner digimon at Gennai’s lake house…”</p><p>“I want to know how many houses he has,” Taichi responds, putting down the oars, so they are just floating aimlessly in the lake, and turning his attention to Koushiro and one of those millions of things.</p><p>“Yes, but <em>why</em>?” Koushiro prods, going back to typing at his computer.</p><p>Taichi sighs, balancing the oars in one hand as he rubs at the back of his neck, a gesture both done in thoughtfulness but also comfort. “How much do we really <em>know </em>about Gennai, Koushiro? Don’t you think we should know more? You’re the one that’s always telling me when need more facts.”</p><p>Koushiro frowns, pausing his fingers on the keyboards and looking up at Taichi. “Perhaps,” he says, tentatively.</p><p>“We don’t even know <em>what</em> he is<em>. </em>Let alone how he went from being the cooky old guy who gave us cryptic messages via hologram in the Digital World to impersonating Ken and trying to kill us,” Taichi argues. <em>And actually killing Nishijima, </em>he adds in his head.</p><p>“Maybe we don’t know enough,” Koushiro concedes, tapping the side of his computer nervously, “Something must have happened though because the Gennai we knew would never—”</p><p>“You’ve always been way too trusting of Gennai,” Taichi interrupts, tensely.</p><p>“I wouldn’t draw that conclusion,” Koushiro shoots back, pursing his lips, “I’ve just always seen his usefulness. He had answers we never would gotten any other way. An obvious route to real answers, however cryptic.”</p><p>Taichi taps the edge of Koushiro’s computer. “And now he is the question. He doesn’t have answers. We need answers about him.” Taichi punctuates this with a determined nod, meeting Koushiro’s narrowed eyes with a hard look of his own. “You blocked him from accessing your computer, right?”</p><p>“Yes,” Koushiro replies, with a slight roll of his eyes.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Koushiro starts to resume his typing and then pauses again. “What are you going to do if we find his location?”</p><p>“I haven’t decided yet,” Taichi admits, looking away slightly and watching a few fish swim under the water. He’s tried to not think about it too much, the anger in his gut enflaming every time he does.</p><p>Koushiro levels Taichi with a hard look—one of the ones Koushiro gives that appears as if he is seeing straight through someone. The one that feels like Koushiro’s razor-sharp mind is scanning him and extrapolating the exact data needed to draw the correct conclusion, regardless of whether Taichi has volunteered all the information needed. Koushiro’s eyes look him up and down and at the end he frowns, asking, “Shouldn’t we tell the others?”</p><p>“No need. We’re just looking for the safe-houses, we’re not doing anything.” Taichi shrugs.</p><p>“We should tell them.”</p><p>“If we do anything more than investigate, we’ll tell them.”</p><p>“I don’t like lying to our friends, Taichi. Especially not to Mimi,” Koushiro insists, holding the sides of his computer, as if threatening to close it.</p><p>“Especially not Mimi, ne?” Taichi teases, grin broad. “What’s going on there anyway?”</p><p>Koushiro blushes briefly, but then his face contorts into a scowl. “Don’t change the subject, Taichi. I don’t like lying to our friends.”</p><p>Taichi sighs. “It’s not lying, Kou.”</p><p>“It’s deliberating withholding information that affects the entire group, which is tantamount to lying, Taichi.”</p><p>“We haven’t found any traces of Gennai at the safe-houses we’ve tracked down so far. He may have been deleted or rebooted, or whatever, when Meicoomon was destroyed.”</p><p>“Yes, but—”</p><p>“Don’t you think it’s better that we have more information before we alarm anyone?” Taichi chides him, playing into his friend’s deep-seated desire for knowledge.</p><p>“In most cases, yes, I would agree that having our facts straight is important, but in this case—”</p><p>“Koushiro, look at everyone,” Taichi interrupts, gesturing towards the strip of beach in front of the cabin, on the other side of the lake. “Over there. On that beach. Every single one of those people is struggling or hurt or fearful in one way or another. They’re not ready for me to spring this on them. We don’t even know if there’s anything to tell them.”</p><p>Koushiro purses his lips together. Then he sighs, running his hand through his short red hair, messing it up. He’s hesitating, but Taichi can see him starting to give in. They’ve been friends for too long: Taichi knows where all his buttons are. Koushiro’s loyalty to Taichi is wearing him down and maybe it’s terrible of Taichi to take advantage of that, but he needs Koushiro on his side.</p><p>Taichi smiles brightly at him, trying to provide reassurance. “If we find something and we want to investigate further, we’ll bring in some of the others, okay? Until then, poking around the Digital World via your laptop there”—he taps the edge of the laptop screen, earning another scowl from Koushiro as he shifts it away from Taichi’s fingers—“isn’t dangerous, so it isn’t something that we need to tell anybody about. Not yet.”</p><p>“If we find something…”</p><p>“Then we’ll bring in some reinforcements,” Taichi says, confidently. He holds out his pinky finger to Koushiro, with a boyish grin. Koushiro scoffs, rolling his eyes, but wraps his own pinky finger around Taichi’s, sealing the promise. At the impact they both transition into a quick ‘secret handshake’, a remanent of their childhood, of which neither has quite let go.</p><p>“Fine,” Koushiro grumbles, turning back to typing on his computer. “I’ve tracked three more safe-houses in addition to the lake house.”</p><p>“Any of them appearing to be underground?”</p><p>Koushiro licks his lips, eyes scanning the data in front of him. “No, don’t think so. Maybe one? But it looks more like it’s in the side of Infinity Mountain.”</p><p>“Keep looking then,” Taichi says, picking up the oars again and taking a long stroke to propel them to a different part of the lake.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Let’s play truth or dare!” Mimi squeals. She squeezes herself into a spot around the campfire, settling between Koushiro and Meiko. Her movements jostle the can of margarita mix drink she has in hand and a few drops spill, causing Koushiro to jump to move his computer away and glare. “You shouldn’t even have that out here, Koushiro; we’re <em>relaxing</em>, having<em> fun. </em>Put your computer away!”</p><p>There’s a flash of irritation on Koushiro’s face, but he does what he’s told. Grumbling, he puts the computer in his backpack, tucking it behind him.</p><p>“Now as I was saying—truth or dare!” Mimi continues, wide smile plastered on her face. There’s a mixture of responses that answer her, groaning by most of the older Chosen. Taichi finds himself joining in on the groans from where he’s sat on a log, his hand wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle. Some of the younger crowd, led by an enthusiastic Daisuke, are louder through, and the cheers of agreement win out.</p><p>“Great, I’ll start.” Mimi looks around the circle, through the flickering flames, for her potential first victim. “Hmmm,” she says, drawing out the thoughtful noise as she considers her options. Tilting her head to the right, her eyes scan the circle, starting with Meiko, then Miyako, then Sora, then Yamato, and continuing round the campfire circle until they land on Jou, seated on the log next to Taichi. She smiles, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Jou!”</p><p>Jou pales. “Mimi, I don’t want to play,” he groans. He leans forward to look around Taichi at Mimi and shakes his head in protest and Mimi giggles, clasping her hands together in delight. Sheepishly, Jou bows his head, and Taichi places a hand on his shoulder, patting him reassuringly.</p><p>“You have to play, Jou! Everyone is playing!” Mimi exclaims, clearly enjoying this. “Truth or dare.”</p><p>“Jou,” Gomamon pipes up, drawing out the ending vowels, teasingly, “Come on, relax! We’re camping. We’re having <em>fun.</em>” The digimon cranes his neck back to look at his partner, who glares at him.</p><p>“Or you can forfeit and chug a beer,” Daisuke adds, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously from a few spots over.</p><p>“You can’t even drink, Dai!” Iori chimes in from the spot next to Jou. Daisuke shrugs and raises his water bottle to his lips, winking at Iori and earning a glare from his timid teammate. A few people laugh. </p><p>“Technically nobody here should be drinking,” Jou mutters under his breath, ever responsible. It’s a pointless retort—he’d lost that argument to Mimi and Yamato, who had argued for the inclusion of alcohol with vigour. Now, looking around the campfire at his team, Taichi can see that at least half the group holding some sort of alcoholic beverage. Jou picks up a stick and starts mindlessly drawing in the dirt, avoiding looking at Mimi. He sighs, “Truth, I guess.”</p><p>Mimi groans, “Ugh, so predictable, Jou!”</p><p>Jou sticks out his tongue at her, likely the influence of the low-alcohol beer he’s holding. Taichi takes a swig of his beer and relaxes, slightly. He’s determined to actually enjoy this evening.</p><p>“Fine.” Mimi rolls her eyes. “Truth then” —she sighs, exasperated—“does your girlfriend actually exist?”</p><p>“Mimi!” Jou exclaims. He pushes his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, flabbergasted. Gomamon giggles. “Of course, she exists! Why doesn’t anyone believe me? Gomamon tell them.”</p><p>Gomamon shrugs, then, teasingly. “I don’t know what a girlfriend is, Jou. We don’t have them in the Digi-World. I can’t possibly tell them.” The fun-loving digimon giggles, wiggling his purple eyebrows at his partner. The group laughs and Jou fumes.</p><p>“You can’t lie during the game, Jou,” Hikari teases, tone light and familiar.</p><p>As his eyes follow the sound of her voice, landing on his sister, Taichi feels his heart sink; he misses that tone. It’s been weeks since she looked or spoke to him with any level of affection. He takes another giant swig of his beer, trying to push those feelings away. Koushiro lightly bumps Taichi’s knee with his shoulder, a small gesture of support from his spot on the ground to Taich’s left. Taichi places his hand on Koushiro’s shoulder, squeezing lightly in response.</p><p>“Great partner you are,” Jou retorts, grabbing Gomamon and lightly pushing the digimon’s face into the dirt. Gomamon continues giggling. Everyone else joins in.</p><p>Eventually, the laughter dies down and Jou is informed it’s his turn to find a victim. He pushes his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly. “I’m terrible at this Mimi…” he complains, as he studies the group. After a few moments of protesting, his eyes settle on Hikari. “Revenge, Hikari– truth or dare,” Jou says.</p><p>“Dare, I guess,” she giggles and leans into Takeru.  </p><p>“Dare her to kiss me!” Daisuke whispers, but Jou ignores him. V-mon snickers as Hikari reaches over to swat Daisuke lightly with her hand. Taichi rolls his eyes—some things never change, and despite being angry with Hikari, it seems Daisuke can’t help but keep up his flirtatious charade.</p><p>Jou sighs again. “You couldn’t have picked truth? That’s so much easier…” He trails off, thinking. Finally, he grabs an empty cup from behind him and walks around the circle, taking a tiny bit of some of the alcoholic beverages and pouring it into the cup. He walks over to Hikari and holds out the cup. “Drink this.”</p><p>“Wow Jou, didn’t know you had it in you,” Takeru chimes in, looking in the cup, as Hikari giggles.</p><p>“What!?” Jou sputters, “I’ve been to parties! And it’s not very much…”</p><p>“That looks disgusting,” Tailmon comments, peering into the cup. Patamon nods from his spot a top Takeru’s head.</p><p>The group laughs. Taichi joins in half-heartedly, kind of weirded out watching his <em>fourteen</em>-year old sister be challenged to drink from the King’s Cup, even if its barely a shot’s worth. Not that he’s one to judge—he has several fuzzy memories of Yamato and him sprawled out in Yamato’s living room over the years, with cans of beer and cheap wine in various stages of consumption.</p><p>Hikari takes the cup. “All in one go or can I sip it?”</p><p>Craning his neck to see in the cup from where he’s sat on the other side of his brother, Yamato chuckles, “It’ll be way less gross if you chug it.”</p><p>Hikari throws the cup back. “Gross!” she says, sputtering some of it out.</p><p>Jou blushes. “Sorry.” He returns to his seat next to Taichi where he mutters another apology under his breath. Taichi shrugs.</p><p>The game continues. Hikari smiles and picks Miyako, who doesn’t meet Hikari’s eyes, but mumbles that she chooses truth, and is asked what her grossest habit is (not changing bedsheets often enough, apparently). Miyako picks on Mimi, who chooses dare and then has to kiss Sora, both bursting into giggles after pecking each other on the lips.</p><p>Mimi picks the giggling Sora, who also picks dare and manages to fit nine marshmallows in her mouth, with much encouragement from Piyomon, before starting to choke. They all laugh at that and Agumon demands to try– “it’s just food, it’s easy!” Taichi explains the rules and helps him fit nineteen before Agumon turns a bit red and Taichi cuts him off.</p><p>Sora turns to her right to pick Yamato, who surprisingly chooses truth and is asked how many of his band’s songs are written about their Digital World adventures. Despite this question not being embarrassing at all, Yamato turns a shade of pink—a lovely shade of pink as far as Taichi’s concerned—before grumbling that it’s somewhere around ten. He’s lost count, apparently. Takeru snorts so loudly that beer leaks slightly out of his nose and Yamato frowns, leaning over to confiscate his brother’s beer. From his place dozing against Yamato’s side, Gabumon says, ever-softly, that he thinks that’s beautiful and Yamato blushes again. Taichi manages to catch Yamato’s eye through the flames, and when their eyes lock, the look between them conveys exactly what Taichi is thinking—he also thinks that’s beautiful. Typically, Yamato tries to hide his smile.</p><p>Moving the game—and it’s focus—along, Yamato picks Daisuke. When Daisuke picks dare, Yamato grins, mischief clouding his eyes: “Switch shirts with Mimi.”</p><p>Daisuke looks directly across the fire to where Mimi is sitting, wearing her idea of camping gear—a green army shirt dress, paired with black leggings. Daisuke’s eyes bug out, exclaiming, “She’s wearing a dress, Yamato!”</p><p>“Yep.” Yamato arches his eyebrow. “I mean, you can forfeit and chug a beer,” he adds, calling back to Daisuke’s earlier comment to Jou. Everyone laughs.</p><p>Daisuke stands up. “Okay. Well, as long as Mimi is okay with it!” His tone is cautious. Taichi rolls his eyes at his protégé; Daisuke’s clearly hoping Mimi will refuse, which means he really doesn’t know Mimi.</p><p>As suspected, Mimi stands up, and beckons Daisuke over. She doesn’t even leave the circle, handing her drink to Meiko, and starting to unbutton the front of her dress. Daisuke approaches, tugging off his football jersey and holding it out to her. Mimi slips out of the fabric and hands it to him, standing triumphantly in her sports bra for a second, while Daisuke hesitantly exchanges articles of clothing. Taichi steals a glance at Koushiro, who is blushing madly.</p><p>“Thanks,” Daisuke grumbles, as he struggles into the dress. His shoulders too broad for it, so it just kind of hangs off of him unbuttoned, like a strange cardigan sweater. “Hot?” he asks as he returns to his spot between Ken and Hikari, mimicking a body wave. Ken rolls his eyes and Hikari laughs. Embarrassed, Daisuke sits down pretty quick after that.</p><p>“Ow, ow, Mimi!” Sora catcalls between giggles, as Mimi throws on the football jersey, and even Taichi admits she pulls it off pretty well. Mimi spins in the jersey, flashing a peace sign before sitting down and reclaiming her drink, laughing.</p><p>Daisuke picks Ken, unsurprisingly, and asks him to confirm his first kiss. This is of no interest to the older Chosen, but Takeru and Iori also seem to care; Takeru wide-eyed at the response: “<em>Really</em>?”</p><p>Ken chooses Takeru, partly in revenge and partly, Taichi thinks, because he can’t pick Daisuke and still, after three years isn’t entirely comfortable with the broader group. He dares him to do a few cartwheels in a row. They’re terrible, partly as Takeru is two beers deep and everyone laughs.</p><p>“That’s harder than it looks,” Takeru mumbles as he returns to his spot. Hikari threads her hand through Takeru’s, leaning back into him, her face flush. Takeru picks Mimi—a common target in this game—who is dared to replicate some dance moves from a recent popular dance routine. Sora, Palmon, Meiko, and Miyako join in, and the five of them are surprisingly good, inciting a good laugh from everyone around the fire.</p><p>Then it’s Mimi’s turn again. “Hmm,” she exhales, as she studies the circle, “Who hasn’t played?” Taichi tries to avert his eyes, happy to not be a part of this game, but Mimi catches his eye at the last second, exclaiming, “Taichi!”</p><p>Taichi sighs, already full of regret before he even answers the mandatory question. “I guess, dare.” He shrugs—he’s allegedly courageous and he can’t very well not choose the dare option.</p><p>Mimi scrunches up her face in a way that Taichi does not trust. She raises her hand to her chin, stroking it, making a show of struggling to come up with an appropriate dare. Then she looks him straight in the eye, wiggles her eyebrows mischievously, and lays it on him: “I dare you to kiss Meiko!”</p><p>“Mimi!” Meiko whispers and instantly blushes. Her eyes cast down into her lap, as the other girls—minus Hikari— start to giggle. Taichi instantly feels nauseous and is sure he’s also turning a shade of red and <em>not</em> for the reason people think. Jou nudges him forward and Taichi jams an elbow into his side. Taichi tries to catch Yamato’s eye, who seems to be avoiding his gaze, he and Hikari the only people in the circle not making some sort of encouraging or taunting noise.</p><p>He does not want to do this. He destroyed this girl’s digimon. And then there’s Yamato, of course, but, slightly more nauseating—he <em>destroyed </em>this girl’s digimon. Their earlier conversation does not negate that reality.</p><p>The anxiety pulses in the back of his brain and he struggles to hold it together. He leans down and picks up the mostly empty bottle of beer and finishes it, trying to buy himself time. Maybe they’ll forget; someone will do something stupid and he’ll be saved. He looks at Agumon for help, hoping his partners guilelessness might save him, but the ridiculous dinosaur is busy eating more marshmallows. He looks at Yamato for help, who is studying the sky, obviously uncomfortable. A familiar stabbing in the back of his head flickers.</p><p>He <em>destroyed </em>this girl’s digimon.</p><p>“Taichi, come on!” Sora exclaims, snapping him from his thoughts. “It’s just a game. Everyone played it—even Jou!” She rolls her eyes. Taichi is loathsome.</p><p>“Maybe I’ll just take the beer…”</p><p>Daisuke is up and yanking Taichi to his feet, throwing him forward. “Come on, <em>fearless </em>leader. Play the game! <em>I’m </em>wearing a dress!”</p><p>To Taichi, that’s hardly the same fucking thing. That’s funny—mildly embarrassing. This is… He <em>destroyed </em>this girl’s digimon. The anxiety is roaring in his head and it is a struggle to stay on his feet. He looks again at Yamato for help. This time Yamato looks at him briefly, but his expression is unreadable. Taichi—pushed by Daisuke—walks the few steps over to Meiko, only separated from Yamato by Sora and Miyako; eyes still on Yamato studying him for a response—nothing. Defeated, Taichi leans in and plants a light kiss on Meiko’s cheek, echoing her earlier gesture.</p><p>Mimi groans, “That’s cheating! Come on, even Sora and I kissed.”</p><p>Taichi kicks his foot out at her, but just wanting to get this over with now, he leans in again, places his hand on Meiko’s shoulder and kisses her. It’s just a quick peck and uncomfortable as hell, but, despite it all, she does lean into him slightly. When her hand comes up to his arm, hooking him at the elbow, he breaks it off. He stumbles back to his spot, trying not to mutter too loudly at Mimi about hating this stupid game.  </p><p>He quickly picks Koushiro, who chooses truth, and Taichi gets him to admit he’s cheated on a test before—an English test on the names of colours. The names of the colours happened to also be written on the box of crayons in English, so he matched them, and that’s hardly cheating its being resourceful, Koushiro insists. Taichi can hear Tentomon pipe up in support of his partner.</p><p>Once everyone is distracted with that, Taichi retreats into himself, staring at the ground, stomach whirling with unease, anxiety making itself known in his head: he <em>destroyed </em>that girl’s digimon. <em>Destroyed her! </em>He doesn’t care if she forgave him, if she understood why he did what he did—none of that matters: <em>How I could ever look at her without feeling this overwhelming guilt? </em>He feels like throwing up, but he keeps swallowing what bubbles to the surface, looking into the flames and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes—especially Yamato’s. He doesn’t want to see the shades of hurt that’s likely hidden in there.</p><p>Instead, Taichi loses himself in his thoughts, staring into the flames and trying to conjure good memories of the Digital World—creating fire the first nights in the Digital World; learning to cooking fish and other food; finding the trolley; laughing about the ridiculous ways everybody, especially Koushiro, eats eggs; each time he’s reunited with Agumon; the relief of finding Koromon after the reboot; moments with Hikari in the Digital World when it still felt like they were a team; finding Yamato in Freezeland; the first time they ever created Omegamon and the sense of being invincible, when fused with Yamato. <em>Good</em> memories. He has good memories; he just has to keep reminding himself of them. He has to keep conjuring them to the surface when the bad ones start to overtake.</p><p>Consequently, he misses the next few rounds of the game. It isn’t until Jou nudges him that he realizes he’s being called on again. He raises his head and pinpoints who is calling him.</p><p>“Taichi,” Hikari announces, her voice thick with the tell-tale sign of too much alcohol, “Truth or dare.”</p><p>It’s like the air is sucked out of the area; ironic, as they’re outside. Everyone’s eyes turn to Taichi to gauge his reaction and he’s aware of Koushiro stiffening beside him, poised to interfere. Agumon finally stops stuffing his face, turning his attention back to the group.</p><p>Taichi puts his hand on Koushiro’s shoulder and squeezes lightly, hoping to reassure his friend that he’s not going to lose it this time. He can also see Yamato staring at him from across the flames; lips curling in a growl, eyes narrowing. Taichi meets Yamato’s gaze quickly, trying to convey that he’s okay. Yamato’s posture softens, slightly—message received—but the icy gaze remains on his face, as he glares at Hikari over his brother’s head.</p><p>“It’s getting late and this game is getting boring,” Jou asserts, hoisting Gomamon onto his shoulders. He begins to boost himself up from his spot on the log next to Taichi; an attempt to end the game before things escalate. Iori joins him in standing.</p><p>“Truth,” Taichi declares, not moving from his spot. He may as well jump in the deep end. Jou winces as he sits back down. The circle is visibly tense.</p><p>Hikari is slow to continue. Taichi watches, meeting her eye, as his sister chooses her words; her posture’s rigid and she’s slightly intoxicated, but otherwise she looks like the sister he knows, loves, and misses—contemplative and gentle. One of her hands is captured in Takeru’s, the other one gently wrapped around Tailmon, the white cat curled up in her lap. Hikari pauses, eyes flickering down to Tailmon, scratching behind Tailmon’s ears.</p><p>“Would you have destroyed Tailmon too?”</p><p>The question is a dagger. Taichi feels his stomach constrict; he struggles to catch his breath for a second. Like her, he’s slow to respond, contemplating the best words for the answer. He wants to say ‘no, of course not!’– but deep down, he knows the truth. The truth that eats at him, that will likely further splinter his relationship with his sister, but that he’s resigned himself to: “Yes, Hikari. If it would have come down to it—if there would have been no other choice, I would have.”</p><p>“We <em>always</em> have a choice,” Hikari retorts, the alcohol fueling her.</p><p>“No Hikari, we didn’t. We ran out of choices,” Taichi shoots back, his tone sterner than he wants. His heart aches from the distance his decisions have put between him and her. Her anger cuts him deep, but he can’t lie to her. “I’m sorry, I really am. If there was another choice, another way, I would have made it.”</p><p>Hikari opens her mouth to reply, but before she can, someone else interrupts: “He’s right, Hikari.”</p><p>If the voice wasn’t emanating from right next to him, Taichi would have expected to see Yamato speaking. But it’s not Yamato—it’s Koushiro. He shifts his gaze to his right, to glimpse Koushiro, who meets his gaze and smiles at Taichi. His voice is gentle: “There wasn’t another choice, and the rest of us know that, I told you that before. I know that. And, deep down, I think you know it too…”</p><p>“We shouldn’t have to make choices like that!”</p><p>“Don’t you think I know that?” Taichi snaps.</p><p>Koushiro reaches out and places a hand on Taichi’s forearm, a mix of support and ensuring Taichi stays seated. “We’ve been making difficult choices from day one,” Koushiro continues.</p><p>Hikari glares at them both and opens her mouth to reply, but Taichi intervenes, before she can speak again. “Do you think I wanted to do that? After everything we’ve all been through, that’s what you all think of me?” Taichi asks, voice tense, just slightly below the threshold of shouting.</p><p>“Taichi—of course not¾” Sora starts, as Daisuke says, “Just shut up, Hikari.”</p><p>Hikari interrupts them both: “I don’t know what to think of you anymore.”</p><p>“Okay, maybe we should just take a break,” Jou says, standing up again.  Koushiro joins him, hand still on Taichi’s arm.</p><p>Koushiro leans in, whispering, “Come on, let’s go…” Taichi obeys the tug on his arm as Koushiro tries to lead him from the circle. Mostly everyone is still in stunned silence; Mimi having turned to hug Meiko, everyone else sitting rigidly. He sees Yamato starting to push up from his seated position too, but before Koushiro can lead him away, Taichi digs in his heel and turns.</p><p>“No, I’m tired of this. We’re solving this,” Taichi says, a lot more calmly than he feels. He pulls away from Koushiro and takes a few strides across the circle until he’s in front of his sister. With surprising ease, he bends down, tucking his arms around her and throwing her over his shoulder, so her legs flail in the air.</p><p>“Taichi! Put me down!” Hikari yelps, bashing her fist into his side as her body dangles over his shoulder.</p><p>“No,” Taichi says, firmly. He steps over the log Hikari and Takeru were sitting on, starting towards the beach. “We’re going to argue about this until we’ve either fixed this or you drown me in the lake.”</p><p>Behind him, he can hear Takeru start to get up and Yamato whisper a firm, “Leave them.” Takeru hisses something in retort, but Taichi doesn’t hear anyone coming up behind them, so he must reluctantly sit down.</p><p>Hikari protests the entire way to the edge of the water, but Taichi maintains a strong grip on her legs, not letting go until they get to the water’s edge, out of earshot from the rest of the Chosen. The campfire flickers in the distance, everyone having stayed back, including their digimon. When he puts his sister down, Hikari stumbles quickly away from him, walking a few paces down the beach. The water gently laps against the shore; that and the sound of insects buzzing the only sounds as the Yagami siblings stand silently on the beach.</p><p>“I’m tired of this, you have to be too,” Taichi says to her back, finally. He pulls a hand through his hair, fingers getting caught in tiny knots as he rakes through it. “Aren’t you exhausted by this, Hikari? I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you. I miss you.”</p><p>Hikari pauses on the beach, still facing away from him. She crosses her arms over her chest, pulling her shoulders into her body. Taichi stares at her back—she looks small and frail and he wants so badly to pull her into his arms. They’re silent for an unbearable amount of time, before his sister finally speaks, soft and unsure, and Taichi almost has to strain to hear her.</p><p>“You just left.”</p><p>“What?” Taichi says. He’s unsure if he even heard correctly. He takes a hesitant step forward.</p><p>“You just left,” she says, a bit louder. She turns around and her face is a mix between anger and near crying. “You left <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“Hikari…”</p><p>“No! We’ve always been together, and you decided to be a <em>hero</em>. And you left me, and look what happened,” Hikari says, tears starting to form in the sides of her eyes. “Look what <em>I </em>did.”</p><p>Taichi freezes. “Hika, you have to know I didn’t want to leave you…”</p><p>“But you <em>did</em>,” Hikari says, her hands are shaking, but she’s fighting hard to keep her voice from quavering. “I would never abandon you, I fought with you, even though you left me, and you made me <em>kill </em>a digimon. Our friend. In the Real World.” She pauses, her voice cracking at the seams. “She can <em>never </em>come back, like—” Her last word breaks off at the end, a sob escaping.</p><p>His eyes widen in realization, the full picture snapping into place.</p><p>“Like Wizarmon,” he finishes for her, softly. <em>Of course,</em> he thinks, feeling like an idiot; he should have known, should have realized—he’s so been so preoccupied trying to justify this through the lens of Light and Hope, and her unwillingness to win through half-measures, he never even considered that particular source of trauma. “Hika…” He reaches for her.</p><p>“No!” she says, yanking her arm away. “She’s gone. Forever. Because I created something dark, because you left me and I’m not strong like you—”</p><p>“Hikari, you are <em>so </em>strong,” he insists, taking another step towards her, even as she stumbles back out of his reach. “And she was out of control before that happened. We probably would have had to make that choice anyway—I already had made that choice.”</p><p>“Taichi, I—” Hikari starts, and then is abruptly cut off. Her body suddenly goes rigid, eyes snapping shut and hands flexing at her sides. When her eyes open, they’re a kaleidoscope of colour. Her skin glows, an aura of light radiating from her.</p><p>“Taichi,” the inhabitant says, voice melodious. “You all did so well. A great sacrifice was needed to maintain harmony and balance, and you saw it through.”</p><p>His fists clench at his sides. “Hikari?” Taichi asks, quietly, even though it’s obvious his sister is not present anymore.</p><p>“No,” Homeostasis replies, “Now, I do not have long.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remember when I said last chapter was long? I lied. This one was a monster. Sorry (but also not sorry?, as folks say).</p><p>A small justification for delays on chapters: Chapters take me so long to pump out not only because they're getting so much longer but also I have to do so much "research" for them? Like last chapter I spent an hour staring at google maps trying to get a rough estimate of time distance between Odaiba and a lake., And this chapter I had to watch a few episodes of Adventure 02 about three times each to get the details right. And I've seeing Reunion about nine times now. I realize you probably don't care whether I get driving distance right as there's likely a bunch of cultural things I'm getting wrong and once we get into school times, I feel like it might get worse with my lack of understanding (I'm Canadian). So, I'm trying as there's an ending I want, but I want to make sure I get there in a way that makes sense with canon/lore.  But I'm sure there's mistakes (if there's glaring ones, feel free to point them out).</p><p>Anyway, till next time! Hopefully sooner rather than later, given how I ended this chapter :) .</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. We Might as Well be Strangers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Fifteen: We Might as Well Be Strangers.</strong>
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  <strong> <em>Yamato</em> </strong>
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  <strong> <em>I don’t know your thoughts these days</em><br/><em>We’re strangers in an empty space</em><br/><em>I don’t understand your heart</em><br/><em>It’s easier to be apart</em></strong>
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  <strong> <em>We might as well be strangers in another town.</em> </strong>
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  <strong><br/><em>- We Might as Well Be Strangers, Keane </em> </strong>
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<p>In Yamato’s humble opinion, Mimi’s truth and dare game goes from good-to-bad-to-awful extremely quick, and completely predictably. Playing games such as this in the first place rubs him the wrong way—Takeru and Taichi would say that’s just his ‘too cool act’ getting in the way of some good-natured fun—but at this time, with this crowd, with these undercurrents, there was only one way this was going to end: badly.</p>
<p>Yamato is pushing up from his spot on the ground, after Hikari’s outburst, to help Koushiro drag Taichi away from the campfire and any potential catastrophe, when Taichi suddenly yanks his arm away from Koushiro, and marches over to his sister, face set in a firm line, saying, “No, I’m tired of this. We’re solving this.”</p>
<p>“Taichi! Put me down!” Hikari yelps, as her brother picks her up, bashing her fists into Taichi’s side. The entire group watches, wide-eyed and suspended in silence, as Taichi hauls her away over his shoulder. Across the fire, Koushiro looks shocked, his hand still hovering in the air where it had been holding back Taichi only a few seconds ago.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Sora murmurs, with a degree of apprehension, and Yamato whole-heartedly agrees. Not for the first time, Yamato thanks whatever Digital-World-god decided he didn’t have the moxie to lead this group, letting him fall in line behind Taichi, either backing him up or keeping him focused.</p>
<p>“No,” Taichi says, stepping over the log Takeru still sits on. “We’re going to argue about this until we’ve either fixed this or you drown me in the lake.” His pace quickens, as he heads down the water’s edge.</p>
<p>Takeru pushes up from the log, aiming to follow, but Yamato grabs his arm. “Leave them,” Yamato says, firmly, pulling him back down to the ground.</p>
<p>His brother glares at him, straining against Yamato’s grip. “She doesn’t want to talk to him, Yamato.”</p>
<p>Yamato pauses for a second, forming a careful reply. “They need to talk, Takeru.”</p>
<p>But before Yamato can start to rationalize things, Daisuke chimes in with an unhelpful, “If she didn’t want to talk, she shouldn’t bait him with stupid questions.”</p>
<p>“Is it such a stupid question?” Takeru reacts instantly, whirling on Daisuke, dislodging Patamon from his head in the process.</p>
<p>Daisuke rolls his eyes. “Yes,” the younger goggle-head remarks, flippantly, “Taichi would never do anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary.”</p>
<p>“For fuck’s sake, Daisuke,” Takeru hisses, wrenching his wrist from Yamato’s grasp so he can fully turn to face Daisuke. “If you could stop being so goddamn infatuated with Taichi for like fifteen seconds, maybe you could see that he’s not some perfect human specimen and makes mistakes too.”</p>
<p>Daisuke’s eyes narrow and his lips curl up in a smirk. “Aw,” he taunts, “Jealous, are we?”</p>
<p>Takeru lunges at Daisuke and Yamato has to scramble, heart-pounding all the while to grab his brother. Sora lets out a small gasp behind him. On the other side, a nervous looking Ken puts his arms around Daisuke’s chest, pulling Daisuke back into a seated position with the assistance of V-mon, who grabs at his partner’s wrist. Daisuke scowls as they hold onto him.</p>
<p>“Okay, Takeru, Daisuke, enough,” Yamato declares, pulling on his brother’s arm again to force him to sit. “Cool it.”</p>
<p>“Get off me,” Takeru mutters, brushing Yamato off. Takeru turns back to Yamato, levelling him with a cold look as he pulls away; it’s enough to make Yamato recoil, having never been on the receiving end of that type of reaction from Takeru before. “Why are you defending him? I don’t even get why, Taichi forced your hand, Yamato. You couldn’t have possibly <em>wanted </em>to do that.” Takeru scowls. “Hope doesn’t mean sacrificing our friends, <em>you </em>said that. You were against this!</p>
<p>Between them, the second layer of a wall is slammed down.</p>
<p>“Takeru, stop…” Sora says, softly, from behind Yamato, trying to insert her calmer demeanour into the cascading hot tempers.</p>
<p>“Taichi didn’t force me to do anything,” Yamato insists, struggling to keep his tone as he watches Takeru’s face harden. He swallows audibly, before continuing, “We made a hard choice. But we did it together—Omegamon takes both of us.” Beside him, Gabumon nods.</p>
<p>“You talk like what Taichi did is the biggest mistake made throughout this whole Yggdrasil mess,” Daisuke mutters, loudly, interrupting Yamato’s plea to his brother. “The way I see it, Yamato, you both did us a favour—one less evil digimon in the world.”</p>
<p>“Daisuke…” Ken murmurs from behind him, reaching up to grasp Daisuke’s forearm, stilling the moving hand. He nudges Daisuke, nodding his head in the direction of Meiko, who has let out a choked sob. Yamato’s gut twists at the sound, guilt compounding.</p>
<p>“Shit,” Daisuke mumbles, “Meiko, I didn’t mean that…” he tries, voice trailing off as Meiko starts crying and stumbles to her feet, taking off in the direction of the house.</p>
<p>Mimi scrambles to her feet, fruity alcoholic beverage spilling on the ground as she rushes to stand. “Mei Mei! Wait!” she calls, turning to follow Meiko and glaring at Daisuke over her shoulder as she takes off running, Palmon at her heels. Daisuke’s posture slumps and his frown deepens as Ken whispers in his ear.</p>
<p>“Way to go Daisuke,” Takeru snipes. “Tactful as always.”</p>
<p>“Oh, shut up, Takeru,” Daisuke snaps, “Don’t lecture me. You’re far from perfect.”</p>
<p>“Everyone needs to calm down,” Sora pleas, interjecting her voice before Takeru can react to Daisuke’s comment. There’s an edge of desperation to her voice that makes Yamato place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. She doesn’t look at him, but he feels her relax a modicum under his touch.</p>
<p>“Me?” Takeru says, instead of calming down, jumping to his feet and glowering down at Daisuke. “What did I do? I didn’t murder a digimon partner like your goddamn hero.”</p>
<p>“Takeru—” Yamato tries, but Daisuke is quicker, turning towards Takeru with an ugly sneer on his face.</p>
<p>“Yeah? Well, he’s not the one that didn’t notice that his jogress partner up and disappeared!” Daisuke hisses, getting to his feet, raising his burgundy head and squaring up to look straight at Takeru.</p>
<p>“What—Daisuket—” Takeru sputters, after taking a second to process, his jaw dropping open slightly. He glances over at Iori for help, who adverts his eyes. He then turns, looking over at Yamato for support, but Yamato just adverts his gaze from his brother, awkward and not wanting to betray Takeru, even though he wholeheartedly agrees.</p>
<p>“I’m just saying, if Ken went missing for <em>weeks</em>, I’d tear through every stupid dimension to find him. And I’m sure the same can be said for Yamato and Taichi,” Daisuke continues, jabbing his finger in Yamato’s direction, before re-clenching his fists at his side.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Jou steps in, adding another measured voice to Sora’s original plea, “If everyone could just take a moment to breathe.”</p>
<p>“You think Yamato disappears for a few weeks and Taichi doesn’t comb the entire Digital World looking for him? Did you two even notice? Iori and Miyako went missing and you…” Daisuke continues, as if Jou didn’t even speak. He gestures absently with his hands, then shoves them in his pockets before continuing, “What did you guys even do?” He shrugs, then stands expectantly waiting for an answer.</p>
<p>“The Agency was covering it up, Daisuke,” Takeru spits. “And we did try!”</p>
<p>“Okay, I believe you did…” Iori mumbles, meeting Takeru’s desperate look in his direction for a second before his face shatters and he quickly looks away. Jou’s hand lands on Iori’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“As I said,” Jou tries again, “Everyone breath, we can sort this out.” From where he’s standing behind Jou, Koushiro nods, however his gaze is still fixated on the path to the water. Yamato resists looking over his shoulder, even though he can’t stand not knowing how Taichi’s faring.</p>
<p>“Do you really think we sort this out?” Miyako asks, quietly, “Taichi did kill a digimon partner. What type of defenders of the Digital World are we if just dispose of digimon?”</p>
<p>“Miyako, we’ve killed digimon before,” Koushiro clarifies, turning back to the conversation and ignoring Takeru and Daisuke, who are still trading of insults. His voice sounds more exasperated than usual. “We will likely be asked to again.”</p>
<p>Daisuke turns away from Takeru and points to Koushiro, adding, with vigour, “What he said. This is our <em>job</em>.”</p>
<p>“What would you know?” Miyako argues, “We’ve never killed a digimon before. We’re not executioners.”</p>
<p>Daisuke balks, stuttering a bunch of unintelligible syllables. “Our team—”</p>
<p>“Those were control spires,” Iori interrupts, quietly. He’s staring at his hands, which are stroking Armadimon’s head.</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Miyako says. Her voice is muffled slightly, as she’s clutching Hawkmon close to her chest, burying the lower half of her face in his feathers. “We—at least I—have never killed a digimon, not intentionally.” She raises her chin, then, defiantly, “And don’t speak for us!”</p>
<p>Daisuke glowers at her. “You killed LadyDevimon!” Daisuke states, pointing at Miyako. “And MarinDevimon.” He slides his gaze to the side to look at Iori, who pales.</p>
<p>Miyako’s face crumbles. “She was evil. And even so, I still regret it.”</p>
<p>“That was an unideal situation. Required to protect Miyako,” Hawkmon interjects, on behalf of his partner, who is now blinking back tears. “Otherwise, I would not have done it.”</p>
<p>Takeru jabs Daisuke in the shoulder. “There’s a difference anyway, Daisuke. Evil digimon versus partner digimon—”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Takeru!” Daisuke spits, whacking Takeru’s hand away. V-mon yelps as Daisuke brings his other fist up, but Ken’s athlete’s reflexes manage to react quick enough, catching Daisuke’s fist before it completes its movement.  </p>
<p>“Daisuke, please stop, you’re still healing,” Ken pleas, pulling Daisuke’s hand back. He’s looked increasingly uncomfortable as the evening has gone on, having never completely settled in with the broader Chosen, instead relying on Daisuke to help him feel at ease. Now he looks positively sick to his stomach.</p>
<p>Ken’s still struggling to hold back Daisuke and Yamato’s reached up to try to draw Takeru back when both of the younger boys’ freeze, as Miyako’s hoarse whisper breaks in. “Maybe you guys are okay with killing living beings,” Miyako whispers, “Some of us aren’t.”</p>
<p>Yamato inhales sharply, feeling the situation starting to slip away from them, as everyone’s better natures get lost in the rapid-fire accusations. “Nobody wants to have to kill a digimon,” he says, with as much authority as he can muster, still putting a hand on Takeru’s forearm to try to placate him. “But sometimes it is necessary.”</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Koushiro adds, nodding in Yamato’s direction. Even as Daisuke, Miyako, and Takeru keep arguing, Koushiro keeps talking steadily, lecturing about the naïveté of seeing the world in black and white terms and the necessity of making hard decisions. Jou and Sora are nodding along, interjecting when needed. At first Yamato interjects as well, but after few minutes, his attention is drawn away by Tailmon’s head snapping up.</p>
<p>“Something is wrong,” Tailmon says, suddenly. After being awkwardly dislodged from Hikari’s lap, she had begrudgingly repositioned next to Takeru, staring in the direction Taichi and Hikari had disappeared and ignoring the conversation behind her. Now, she’s standing, suddenly super alert.</p>
<p>Tailmon clenches her gloved paws before placing them on the log, hopping up to get a better view. Her eyes narrow, looking towards the water. As she does, Agumon plods around the campfire, he sniffs the air and looks at Tailmon, shaking his head.</p>
<p>“Somethings wrong with Hikari,” Tailmon insists, launching herself off the log and taking off towards water. Agumon doesn’t add anything more, just scampers off behind her.</p>
<p>Yamato and Takeru are on their feet and running seconds later.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>A thread of unease is snaking its way through Yamato’s chest as he runs down the path to the water, right on Takeru’s heels. It’s not a far run—down the path framed by the trees and once in the clearing before the water, a sharp right to the dock—but it feels like one of the longest minutes of his life, hurrying after Agumon and Tailmon who have already bounded down the path, hastily moving towards their partners.</p>
<p>Once at the water, Yamato can hear Taichi’s voice—tense, but that’s not surprising—floating up to them from where the two Yagami siblings are standing, a couple of meters down the beach, far enough that their voices wouldn’t carry up to the campfire.</p>
<p>“Get out,” Taichi is saying, tensely. He’s leaning forward, crowding Hikari’s space—one fist is clenched at his side, the other gripping his sister’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“Leave her alone!” Tailmon growls, launching herself off the ground to leap forward and land on two feet next to Hikari. Agumon draws up beside Taichi.</p>
<p>Yamato pulls up short, a few paces from the siblings. Something is off. Something is wrong with the way Taichi has positioned himself. From the way his face is pulled, expression all too bare—exposed, worried—to the way his hand grasps Hikari’s shoulder—tense, but also like he’s supporting her, as if she might fall down any second. And with Tailmon, who doesn’t seem to be growling at Taichi, but rather up, in Hikari’s direction.</p>
<p>“I asked you to choose—light or darkness. And you showed us your true nature,” Hikari states.</p>
<p>Something is wrong with her too. Her voice is off, her posture is off. She sounds completely unnatural; the voice sounds too melodious, not quite Hikari’s voice, but something he has definitely heard before.</p>
<p>Yamato’s eyes widen as the truth dawns on him. “Takeru!” Yamato says, urgently, looking for his brother has not stopped. At the same time, Takeru reaches forward and wrenches Taichi’s hand off Hikari’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“Get away from her!” Takeru growls at Taichi, putting his body between the two siblings. Taichi falls back, even as his expression is distantly angry and Takeru turns towards Hikari, eyes searching her to ascertain whether she’s okay. Hikari’s gaze doesn’t even flicker in his direction, just looks ahead, aimless and vacant. Takeru must notice the change, as his voice comes out small, “Hikari?”</p>
<p>“Homeostasis,” comes Koushiro’s voice from behind him. It’s not a question, just a statement, already having drawn the correct conclusion from whatever data Koushiro’s acquired. Sora lets out a small worried sound as the rest draw up behind Yamato.</p>
<p>“Keeping Yggdrasil contained is taking much of my strength,” Homeostasis says, “But I can. And in time, I will shut Yggdrasil down.”</p>
<p>Taichi’s jaw clenches. His voice sounds uneasy, but he doesn’t snap at the being again, instead posing a simple question, “And that will stop any further infections?”</p>
<p>There is a pause before Homeostasis’ melodious voice fills the air again. “Yes,” Homeostasis replies, “Balance will be restored. There will be no more threat of infected digimon. The Digital World will be safe from these deviations. Thanks to your ability to make the sacrifice that was required.”</p>
<p>“That sounds promising,” Tentomon states, hovering next to Koushiro.</p>
<p>“Get out of her,” Takeru snaps, reaching for Hikari’s arm, “Haven’t you both done enough?”</p>
<p>“I only desire harmony and stability,” Homeostasis answers. As it does, Hikari’s body jolts and the human inside manages to fight through, croaking, “Even if it… requires… sacrifices?”</p>
<p>“Good. Exactly, Hikari,” Takeru urges, willing Hikari to break through. Then directing his comments to the being, he hisses, “You say you want harmony, but if you’re willing to sacrifice innocent beings to get it, you’re no better than an evil digimon.”</p>
<p>“You understand nothing child,” Homeostasis says, “Some sacrifices are needed, in service of the bigger picture.”</p>
<p>“Let her go, she’s not your pawn,” Taichi argues, taking a small step towards his sister, only to be partially boxed out by Takeru. “You’ve said your piece.”</p>
<p>The soft glow encapsulating Hikari’s body pulses for a moment as the being says, “Light and darkness are a delicate balance. Many sacrifices have been made to ensure this balance. This is not the first, nor is it likely to be the last. You should take care to have the strength and resolve to make such choices.”</p>
<p>And then, the light fades. Hikari collapses, falling to the side.</p>
<p>“Hikari!” Tailmon yelps, as both Taichi and Takeru jolt forward to catch her. Takeru get there first, taking Hikari into his arms, even as Taichi is reaching.</p>
<p>“Get away from her,” Takeru snaps, tightening his grip around Hikari’s waist. “You’ve done enough.”</p>
<p>Taichi blinks in surprise, but otherwise doesn’t move. His shoulders are drawn slightly down, protective and aggressive all at once. Yamato feels on edge, poised on the balls of his feet ready to interfere, but conflicted as to who he’d be siding with. However—thankfully—Taichi’s voice is steady as he says, “You’re shielding her from <em>me.</em>”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Takeru says, pulling Hikari in closer. Yamato watches his brother swallow hard, stealing himself.</p>
<p>“From me?” Taichi repeats, incredulous. He scoffs at Takeru. “You’re being an idiot…”</p>
<p>“Taichi, Takeru, let’s just be calm,” Jou says, moving forward, hands out as if mediating. Sora follows, positioning herself by Hikari’s other side.</p>
<p>“I am calm,” Takeru responds, then turns his attention back to Taichi. “You told me to protect her.”</p>
<p>“From things that could hurt her!” Taichi snaps, leaning slightly forward.</p>
<p>Takeru meets Taichi’s gaze, then says, quietly but firmly, “Right now, you’re the one hurting her.” He brushes Sora off, wrapping his arms further around Hikari so he can fully support her and starts to lead her away, Tailmon and Patamon following closely behind.</p>
<p>Yamato takes the remaining three steps to be at Taichi’s side. Inching himself slightly closer. Not close enough to be continuously touching, but close that he can graze his fingers across Taichi’s clenched fist, without rest of the Chosen noticing. “Taichi…” Yamato murmurs, a soft warning to stay put, and thankfully Taichi does. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“You heard it,” Taichi replies, eyes tracking every step that their siblings take away from him. He doesn’t even spare a glance in Yamato’s direction.</p>
<p>“Homeostasis said nothing else?” Koushiro asks, lips pursed.</p>
<p>“Sora…” Taichi croaks, instead of answering Koushiro, reaching for her. Sora looks at him, catching his falling fingers in her hand. “Can you...” Taichi trails off and gestures in the direction that Hikari and Takeru have departed in. “Please…”</p>
<p>Sora nods. “Of course. I’ll check on her,” she says, squeezing Taichi’s fingers slightly before she takes off at a slow jog to follow Takeru and Hikari down the beach, Piyomon flying closely behind her.</p>
<p>“What was that?” Daisuke asks, after Sora has departed. He stands to the side with Ken, Miyako, Iori, and the rest of the digimon, an array of confusion and alarm clouding the human’s expressions.</p>
<p>“Or who,” Ken murmurs.</p>
<p>Koushiro licks his lips, before turning slightly towards the younger Chosen and commencing an explanation. “That was Homeostasis. A powerful digital lifeform. From our interactions and my research, I have gathered that its primary purpose is to keep balance between the Real and Digital Worlds, albeit its methods are a bit unorthodox. In fact, this being was the one that created the digivices, as well as the tags and crests—”</p>
<p>“Koushiro,” Jou interrupts, glancing between Taichi’s tight expression, the confused expressions of the younger Chosen, and Koushiro, who has entered full lecture mode. “Maybe not now.”</p>
<p>“No, now would be great,” Daisuke argues, crossing his arms over his chest.</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” Tentomon buzzes, stepping in for his partner, as confusion settles in on Koushiro’s face. “We can explain better when everyone is rested.” Koushiro narrows his eyes, but snaps his mouth shut, ceasing to volunteer information.</p>
<p>Daisuke still looks annoyed. “I want to know now. We deserve to know things too—”</p>
<p>Ken grabs Daisuke’s arm, adding, “Maybe later. We can let people calm down for now.” Ken glances at Taichi and Yamato, before murmuring something low in Daisuke’s ear.</p>
<p>“What are you hiding now?” Miyako ponders, twisting her head from where her gaze was on Koushiro to look at Taichi.</p>
<p>“Nothing. And there’s plenty of time to discuss in the morning,” Jou says, with an air of finality around it, as Daisuke starts to grumble again.</p>
<p>“Definitely!” Gomamon chimes in, and Jou looks at his partner gratefully. “Plus, I am exhausted.” The digimon yawns.</p>
<p>“Let’s go to the house then,” Jou confirms, before anyone can say anything further. He squeezes Taichi’s shoulder on the way by, before scooping up Gomamon, and ushering Daisuke and the others from the lake side. It’s not long till they’re out of sight, and Yamato can no longer hear Daisuke and Miyako’s protests.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Yamato asks, once it’s just him, Taichi and Koushiro, and their partners, left standing by the water.</p>
<p>“Are you positive nothing else happened?” Koushiro asks again, “Did Homeostasis clarify—Taichi, are you listening to me?”</p>
<p>He’s not. Yamato can tell. He’s drifted off until some sort of contemplative haze. Staring off into the distance after their siblings. Lost somewhere in his thoughts and all-too-immense sense of responsibility.</p>
<p>“Taichi…” Yamato tries, seeking to draw Taichi’s attention to him. Yamato raises his hand to cup Taichi’s arm, right above the elbow, drawing Taichi’s attention to him, as his gaze darts up to meet Yamato’s eyes for the first time</p>
<p>“What?” Taichi responds, sharply, glancing at Yamato.</p>
<p>“Are you sure Homeostasis didn’t say anything else?”</p>
<p>“Nothing else,” Taichi says, shaking his head. “It just said that it didn’t have long, as it was working to hold back Yggdrasil. Hold Yggdrasil back so there would be no more infections. Thereby eliminating the threat to and by all digimon. Ensuring that digimon are safe.”</p>
<p>“Ensuring that digimon are safe,” Koushiro repeats, mostly to himself. There’s a glance shared between Taichi and Koushiro that Yamato can’t quite interpret, but it’s fleeting before Taichi’s gaze goes back to staring down the beach. Koushiro’s eyebrows knit together in frustration, but he relents, acquiescing to stand there in silence with them</p>
<p>After a while of searching Taichi’s face, trying to pinpoint his state of mind, Yamato finds himself following Taichi’s gaze. It shifts his thoughts to a different problem: Takeru. Yamato keeps looking between Taichi and the direction that Takeru ran off in, pulling his lip into his mouth, biting down hard enough to draw a bit of blood, which drips onto his tongue. He’s torn: the two most important people in his life are on opposite sides of a fight and he’s not sure where he should be standing, next to his brother—his family—or his friend, his partner—his family.</p>
<p>Emotions are rolling through him, bubbling up from beneath the surface. He’s a high-strung person by nature, he knows this, but these are the two people that usually level him out, allow him some reprieve from living his life anxious or angry and trying to cover that up. And now both of those emotions are coming from being stuck between the two people that usually help shut those feelings down.</p>
<p>Yamato feels Taichi lean in, his shoulder connecting with his own. “Go,” Taichi murmurs, nodding in the direction their siblings went, sensing exactly what Yamato’s thinking. Yamato shifts his eyes back to meet Taichi’s brown ones; the other boy’s eyes are soft, despite looking thoroughly exhausted. Yamato hesitates, reluctant to leave Taichi by the water alone, even though Koushiro is still hovering close by.  “It’s okay, really. Go. At least once of us should be talking to them.”</p>
<p>“I—” Yamato starts, torturously torn.</p>
<p>“Go, Yamato. I’ll be here.” Taichi squeezes his shoulder and with a reluctant nod, Yamato jogs away, Gabumon at his heels, feeling like he’s being pulled in two.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>When Yamato finds Takeru, he’s clutching Hikari against his chest as Sora crouches before them, feeling Hikari’s forehead with the back of her hand. She’s murmuring comforting words to Takeru, trying to assure him that Hikari doesn’t feel that warm and this is nothing like the last time. The best course of action is to just get Hikari into bed, and if Takeru feels like it gets any worse, they can get Jou, or his father.</p>
<p>“She’ll be okay,” Sora whispers to Takeru, a dozen times, as they maneuver Hikari away from the beach and towards the house. Yamato helps, as much as he’s permitted. Takeru’s face is hard the entire way, barely sparing anyone a glance and brushing off every attempt Yamato makes to try to see if Takeru’s okay, if he needs help, if needs <em>anything. </em></p>
<p>“Takeru,” he tries again, when they get to the bedroom door. Sora goes through first, completely supporting Hikari, as Takeru holds the door open.</p>
<p>Takeru lifts his eyes to meet Yamato’s, his expression sliding into something steely, as his brother shakes his head and just murmurs, “Not now.”</p>
<p>When the door shuts with him on the outside, a wave of self-doubt and abandonment that he hasn’t felt in years kicks up inside of him. Yamato hasn’t felt this estranged from Takeru since before their first trip to the Digital World. When they still never saw each other; living separately, basically as strangers. It throws him back to the days when he was effectively starving to protect Takeru, and Takeru was desperate to ignore his escape his care and interventions. And now, he’s losing him, again. After all these years, they’re separating, again. A third layer of a wall falls with a thud in front of him.</p>
<p>“He’s just worried about her,” Sora murmurs, as she slowly closes the door to the room. She puts her hand on his arm and runs it up and down his bicep a few times, applying some pressure. “Considering what happened last time, I think it’s understandable.”</p>
<p>Yamato nods, swallowing hard. “Is she okay?”</p>
<p>“She’s a little warm,” Sora replies, “But I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about.” She pauses, then adds, “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>Yamato shifts his gaze from where he still staring at the door. “I,” he starts and coughs to clear the tightness in this throat, “I’m fine.” He nods again to punctuate his statement and offers Sora a small smile and placing his hand over hers.</p>
<p>Sora tilts her head to the side and surveys him owlishly. “It must be difficult,” she says, taking her hand back and motioning for them to take a step away from the door, “Being stuck between the two of them.”</p>
<p>Yamato doesn’t reply while he half-jogs down the first few stairs. “I’m not stuck.”</p>
<p>“Being his friend doesn’t mean you need to support him in every decision,” Sora clarifies, catching up to him and grabbing his arm to make him stop. “I know you. You’re not as okay with this as you’re pretending to be.”</p>
<p>He shrugs her hand off but doesn’t move him the spot she’s requested he stay in, while replying, “We did that together. It needed to be done. I support him.” <em>On everything, </em>Yamato thinks, <em>I’m won’t let go of him. And he won’t let go of me. </em></p>
<p>“I know that, Yamato,” Sora sighs, “But just because you understand—because you made that decision with him, doesn’t mean you’re okay with it. But even if you are, we need to show Hikari and Takeru a bit of compassion.”</p>
<p>"Like she’s showing Taichi?” he snaps at her.</p>
<p>Sora purses her lips. “Hikari <em>and</em> Takeru,” she reiterates, calmly, after a beat. “They’re young. And they’ve been through so much.”</p>
<p>“We’ve all been through so much,” Yamato replies, tersely, glaring at her.</p>
<p>“You don’t need to be so defensive all the time,” Sora says, returning his glare. She sighs, running a hand roughly through red hair. “I’m just saying that maybe having to participate in that sacrifice—however necessary—of a digimon partner might have affected your brother and Taichi’s sister in a different way than the rest of us. Given that one watched his partner die in front of him, and the other almost never found hers, and then almost lost hers.”</p>
<p>“I know that,” he tells her, trying to lower his hackles, but failing miserably. <em>I lost my partner too! </em>he wants to scream. Taichi was ripped out of him– half of their partnership fell, was lost, and barely made it back. <em>Does nobody understand this?</em></p>
<p>“Then act like it,” Sora snaps, clearly not understanding. “Neither of us know what it’s like to lose our partner, not really.”</p>
<p>Yamato feels that thread of unease that’s been snaking through his body curl around his lungs and squeeze, pushing out dread and anger into his system. The emptiness that’s been living inside him on and off since Taichi fell starts to make its presence known again, and when it finally feels like it’s suffocating him, he mutters, “I know how they feel—”</p>
<p>Sora interrupts him, “The reboot doesn’t count. That’s not the same.”</p>
<p>“I’m not talking about the reboot,” he states, voice dropping into something icy. “I’m talking about Taichi. He fell when Omegamon was formed. I <em>felt </em>that.” He pivots away from her and starts the descent down the rest of the stairs.</p>
<p>“Yamato,” Sora says, voice suddenly considerably softer. “Stop! I didn’t think—where are you going?” she adds, as he keeps walking away.</p>
<p>“To find Taichi,” he snaps, continuing down the stairs, blinking back the angry tears he can feel forming in his eyes.</p>
<p>“Yamato!” she says, as she follows him into the kitchen. They both draw up short when they happen upon Koushiro, spread out at the kitchen island, typing away at his computer, face scrunched up as he analyzes whatever nonsense is on the screen. Tentomon and Agumon at Koushiro’s feet, and Gabumon still sitting on the couch with Piyomon, where they’d left them.</p>
<p>Koushiro’s looks up briefly when they enter, eyes darting up and down quickly, and then returning when he locks onto Yamato’s face. “Is everything okay?” Koushiro asks, hesitantly. “Jou is around here, helping people move rooms, if you need him.”</p>
<p>“Everything’s fine,” Yamato says quickly, hoping his voice sounds more composed than he feels. “Why are you here—where’s Taichi?”</p>
<p>Koushiro looks taken aback. “Lake,” he says, gesturing to the door. He pauses, as if he’s carefully forming his next words. “He sent me inside to validate Homeostasis’ claims. Doesn’t want to take it at face value.”</p>
<p>Yamato nods, not caring for the reason, just grateful for a way out and away from this house. A way back to Taichi’s side; he’s anxious to get back to him. He stalks through the kitchen and out the door, vaguely aware of Sora wishing Koushiro good luck and following him.</p>
<p>“Yamato, wait up!” she calls again, jumping down off the veranda.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to come,” Yamato says, quickening his pace.</p>
<p>“He’s my friend too. And he asked me to go after Hikari,” Sora argues, catching up to him. “I should check in.”</p>
<p>Yamato ignores her the rest of the way down to the water, even though she keeps pace beside him and keeps looking over to him, as if trying to ascertain a good opening to prod him more on his comments. He doesn’t give her one, just keeps his gaze forward until he finds the fluffy-haired, courageous idiot he’s searching for, sitting on the ground not far from when there left him, knees tucked into his chest, staring out at the water.</p>
<p>“Is this the point where I tell you two to go away and you consider going to get someone more sensitive?” Taichi murmurs, morosely, once they’re seated on opposite sides of him.</p>
<p>Sora laughs. She leans back on her hands and smiles at Yamato behind Taichi’s back. “No, unlike you two, I can read the situation.”</p>
<p>“What a pain,” Yamato and Taichi mutter back, in unison. Despite the evening’s events and his irritation at Sora, Yamato lets out a small chuckle and Taichi follows suit shortly after.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Sora asks, shifting closer to him so she can take Taichi’s hand in hers.</p>
<p>Taichi shrugs. “I don’t know myself,” he jokes. He says it in a voice that Yamato knows is accompanied by a wink in Sora’s direction, because she laughs.</p>
<p>“Idiot,” she says, with affection. She bumps her shoulder against his, but then levels him with a measured look that demands a real response.</p>
<p>“I’m okay,” Taichi answers, turning his head from side to side to smile reassuringly at them both. Sora’s still holding his hand in hers and Yamato finds himself wanting to reach out to hold Taichi’s other hand, just to be able to provide reassurance himself, rather than watch Sora do it. Just to re-establish that closeness. To have him for himself.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” Sora asks. And then, with a small smile, “Come on now.”</p>
<p>Taichi nods. “Just tired. And pretty much done with this so-called vacation,” he tells her, and Yamato finds himself nodding in agreement. “How is everyone else?” Taichi asks, softly, changing the subject.</p>
<p>Sora sighs. “They’re okay. Jou’s in the house doing damage-control. Takeru’s with Hikari.” She squeezes his hand again. “She’ll be okay, Taichi.”</p>
<p>Taichi nods. “Thanks, Sora.” He lifts her hand and kisses her knuckles briefly, before letting their hands fall to the ground.</p>
<p>“Takeru’s going to stay with her tonight,” Sora adds, softly. “He insisted. And Jou’s reassigning rooms.” She looks over at them and smiles. “Mimi’s helpfully offered to bunk with Koushiro.”</p>
<p>“Leave it to Mimi to take advantage of the situation,” Taichi says, a small smile forming on his face.</p>
<p>“Shame to let a crisis go to waste,” Yamato remarks, with small breathy laugh.</p>
<p>They’re quiet for a few minutes, all three of them off in their own thoughts. The water laps at shore’s edge; the water, the hum of insects around the forest, and the soft breathing of Taichi and Sora are the only sounds Yamato can hear. He tilts his head up to look upwards at the sky, clear and twinkling with stars above them, and tries hard to not reach for Taichi.</p>
<p>“Homeostasis has some timing,” Yamato mutters under his breath, after a bit.</p>
<p>Taichi lets out a defeated chuckle. “You’re telling me,” he mumbles back, “That’s the most Hikari’s spoken to me in weeks and Homeostasis went all Digital-World-interruptus on us.”</p>
<p>“At least we now know that Homeostasis has a method to shut down Yggdrasil,” Sora comments. “That’s good news.”</p>
<p>“Agreed,” Yamato affirms, breathing a sigh of relief. While Homeostasis’ timing was terrible, he welcomes its message: an end to Yggdrasil, no more distortions, and no more infected digimon. That means no more running, and no more fighting. Both worlds are safe and that means they’re all safe. Taichi’s safe.</p>
<p>“Maybe we can enjoy our last year of senior high-school in peace,” Sora muses, smiling. “I mean, between prep school, and entrance examinations, and all the parties Mimi’s going to throw now that she’s back.”</p>
<p>“Relaxing,” Yamato mutters, with a sarcastic tinge to it, yet he’s thinking, <em>yes, that does sound good.</em></p>
<p>“Taichi?” Sora says, shifting her gaze over to the boy between them.</p>
<p>“Hmm?” Taichi says, shifting his gaze to Sora. “What? Oh, yeah,” he mutters, “Senior-high. Exams. Parties. Big dreams…” He drifts off, continuing to look at the sky, clearly only partially listening to the conversation.</p>
<p>Sora’s eyebrows knit together in concern. She squeezes to Taichi’s shoulder and when he responds by lifting his hand to cover hers, she seems to decide not to push him further. “Okay, I’m going to go check on people and then go to sleep,” she adds, stifling a yawn and getting to her feet. “You guys coming?”</p>
<p>Yamato shifts his gaze to Taichi, who shakes his head. “I’m going to stay here for a bit,” Taichi tells her. When she looks conflicted, he adds, “I’m fine, really. Go sleep.”</p>
<p>“I’m staying,” Yamato says, which seems to placate Sora enough.  </p>
<p>“Okay, goodnight then,” she says, before turning to walk up the path towards the cabin.</p>
<p>“Goodnight,” the two boys say in unison.</p>
<p>The moment Sora is out of sight, Yamato shifts closer to Taichi and finally picks up his hand, threading his fingers through Taichi’s and squeezing, like he’s wanted to this entire time. “Are you really okay?” he asks.</p>
<p>Taichi shrugs, and leans back, easing the two of them onto the ground. “I guess?” he says. “Weekend hasn’t been super fun. I’m ready for it to be over.”</p>
<p>“Me too,” Yamato confirms, suppressing a shiver. He tugs on the zipper of his sweatshirt his free hand, dragging it upwards to try to stave off the cold.</p>
<p>Taichi notices and shuffles closer to him; the bundle of energy that he is radiating warmth and allowing Yamato to mooch heat off of him. “When did things get this complicated?” he muses, “Do you remember when we first got to the Digital World? And we slept in that trolley car as we thought that would be more comfortable.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Yamato chuckles, “Everybody was so thankful to not have to sleep on the damn ground. First good night of sleep we got. Except Seadramon had other ideas.”</p>
<p>“I always liked sleeping on the ground more, anyway,” Taichi says with a small smile. “Felt like camping. I thought it was exciting. Sure, there were big huge monsters trying to scoop us off the ground and eat us, but…”</p>
<p>“At least we knew who the bad guys were,” Yamato finishes, quietly.</p>
<p>Taichi nods. “Way easier back then. Still just felt like a big adventure with my best friends in the world,” he sighs, “Now I’m not sure who to trust, and who hates me, and what decisions to make as they’re… so much bigger…”</p>
<p>“I’m always going to be here,” Yamato says, squeezing his hand. “No matter how big they get.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Taichi confirms, squeezing back. He tilts his head to the side, looking like he’s studying Yamato’s face carefully. “You know you can side with Takeru, right,” Taichi says, slowly. “I know how much he means to you. And this must be killing you. I don’t want to be the reason you two are fighting. I’d understand…” he trails off, looking at Yamato expectantly.</p>
<p>Yamato shakes his head, blond bangs falling over his face, which Taichi reaches over and brushes them out of his eyes. “I…” he starts, “Yeah, it sucks. It worries me. But…” Their eyes meet, and he whispers, “We’re in this together.”</p>
<p>Taichi nods, and the words seem to lull them into a few minutes of quiet, both deep in thought as they huddle closely together. Yamato tries to push the abandonment and self-doubt away and just concentrate on the present, on the boy breathing deeply next to him, the warmth radiating off him, the feel of his hand, and the sense of contentment lying next to him brings.</p>
<p>“What do you think I should do?” Taichi asks, suddenly, after a period of silence.</p>
<p>Yamato makes a questioning noise, looking over at Taichi, who is staring at him, questions held in his eyes. “About Hikari?”</p>
<p>“No,” Taichi clarifies, with a sigh, “About the team. About everybody. All this”—he waves his hand pointlessly in the air—“fighting.”</p>
<p>Yamato pauses, thinking, and watching as Taichi looks at him expectantly, waiting for a response. “Why are you asking me?” Yamato asks, rhetorically. “Fuck if I know.”</p>
<p>“You always know,” Taichi insists, “I’m usually going too fast. Running full speed-ahead, looking for the next problem to solve.” He looks at Yamato pointedly. “You’re the one that understands what people actually need to hear. Especially me.”</p>
<p>“You’ve been doing fine at that this weekend, Taichi,” Yamato replies, nudging his shoulder into Taichi’s.</p>
<p>“Just tell me what you’d do,” Taichi repeats, ignoring Yamato’s assurances. “You love telling me what to do.”</p>
<p>“I do not…” Yamato protests, trying to ignore the way Taichi stares at him, eyebrow cocked in sardonic manner. He feels heat rising in his cheeks and looks away, grumbling, “Not all the time.”</p>
<p>“Yamato…”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what to do, Taichi,” Yamato admits after a pause, sighing. “But we’re going to have to find a way to forgive each other, if not for the fact we’re all friends, then because we’re Chosen. Two worlds rely on us being able to trust each other.”</p>
<p>Yamato shifts so he can catch Taichi’s eye. Taichi’s teeth scrape over his bottom lip as he nods. There’s another long pause in their conversation as Taichi appears to be mulling things over, staring up at the dark sky above them.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Taichi mumbles, after a bit, “Well, this weekend’s mostly been a disaster.” He pauses, chuckles. “On the bright side, at least it seems Meiko doesn’t hate me.” He sounds grateful, and because he does, Yamato hates the way his stomach tightens at her name. He’s not even sure why he’s more uncomfortable now—because he played a part in destroying her digimon, or because he’s watched her badly flirt with an oblivious Taichi all weekend.</p>
<p>“At least,” Yamato repeats, and then pauses to take a deep breath in as he pulls slightly away from Taichi. “Do you like her?” Yamato asks, hating himself as he voices the question. It should be so meaningless, after everything that’s happened this evening, except it isn’t. It’s gnawing at him, ever present in the back of his mind: the image of Taichi kissing Meiko.</p>
<p>“What?” Taichi makes a garbled sound, turning his head slightly to look at Yamato.</p>
<p>“Meiko,” Yamato clarifies, averting his eyes from Taichi. “Do you like her?”</p>
<p>Taichi makes a show of rolling his eyes, before looking back at the sky.</p>
<p>“Do you?”</p>
<p>Taichi snorts. “Is that what that look was about earlier? Couldn’t tell,” Taichi says with a small chuckle, talking around his question. “Jealousy? Weird. Are you the jealous type?” Even though Yamato can only see the profile of his face, he watches the corner of Taichi’s eyebrow arch. “Maybe that shouldn’t surprise me.”</p>
<p>Yamato scowls. “Meiko obviously likes you. And Mimi thinks you two would make a cute couple.”</p>
<p>“Mimi thinks a lot of things. Like that an appropriate return to Japan from New York gift is weird gummy candy and not some of the millions of other treats that America has. Like peanut butter cups, or even candy-licorice. Bring me some of that!”</p>
<p>“You’re avoiding the question,” Yamato says, scowling again.</p>
<p>Taichi sighs, rolling over on his side to face Yamato. “I’m not avoiding the question, Yamato.” He smiles, lopsided and flirtatious, and Yamato finds himself torn between punching Taichi straight in the face and kissing him fiercely. “I’m ignoring it.”</p>
<p>“That’s the same thing. Just answer the question.”</p>
<p>“Fine.” Taichi brings his face closer, right at Yamato’s ear, then whispers, “I’m much more into blonds,” before backing off again with a laugh.</p>
<p>“Taichi,” Yamato says, through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>“Do I really have to answer this stupid question?”</p>
<p>Yamato doesn’t reply, but his face must give away his need for a straight answer, as Taichi sighs and tugs him closer, so their foreheads are pressed up against each other.</p>
<p>“You,” Taichi declares, face so close Yamato can see every speck of gold in those unsettlingly deep brown eyes, “Just you. Okay?” Taichi’s hand coming up to cup Yamato’s face and brushing his lips against Yamato’s. “Nobody else compares. No one could,” he says between kisses, speaking softly into Yamato’s jaw.</p>
<p><em>I won’t let go, </em>Yamato hears Taichi saying in his head, an echo from the past but yet so present. Ever present, like the way they’re bound together—as teammates, as best friends, as partners.</p>
<p>Yamato wants to respond but can’t stop kissing him long enough to reply. He just lets Taichi ease him backwards so that Taichi can lower his body on top of Yamato’s own, letting Taichi’s fingers slip under his sweatshirt, his other hand tightening on Yamato’s hip. He opens his mouth under Taichi’s to deepen the kiss, pressing himself closer, their tongues sliding together. Allowing himself to relax under Taichi and soak up his warmth; that searing hot and blindingly bright heat that Yamato just wants to consume him.<em> Here, alive, and with me, </em>Yamato thinks, <em>And mine</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Yamato groans when his pillow starts to move, jostling his head and causing him to stir from whatever dream he was having. The pillow rumbles, the vibrations of a laugh echoing through Yamato’s cheek, as his hair gets swept out of his face, a small crest of light from the window hitting his eyelids. “Fuck. What time is it?” he moans, trying to reposition his face to block out the little bit of light, burying it farther into the soft part of the pillow’s neck.</p>
<p>“Morning to you too, sunshine,” the pillow chuckles, and Yamato groans again. “It’s just after six.”</p>
<p>“Fuck.” Yamato blinks blearily up at Taichi, who smiles down at him, looking alert, even at this godforsaken hour. “How are you so awake?”</p>
<p>Taichi shrugs the shoulder that Yamato isn’t using as a pillow. “It’s not that early.”</p>
<p>“Maybe for sadists,” Yamato mumbles, blinking again. He runs his hand down Taichi’s chest, following its path with his eyes, to look down at the way they’re tangled up together. His body is plastered to Taichi’s side, arm curved around his ribs, Taichi’s legs entangled with his own.</p>
<p>It’s so goddamn warm.</p>
<p>“Bed’s comfy,” Yamato hums, closing his eyes again and nestling in closer, face pressing in against Taichi’s neck.</p>
<p>“Better be, you’re taking up most of it,” Taichi says, as he uses his fingers to massage Yamato’s scalp, drawing a sigh from Yamato’s lips.</p>
<p>“Am not,” Yamato mumbles. Taichi chuckles softly. Then the hand leaves his hair and Taichi starts to move again, jostling Yamato from his spot. “Where are you going?” Yamato complains, as Taichi’s legs untangle from his.</p>
<p>“Bathroom,” Taichi replies, as he swings his legs out of bed. “I’ll be back.”</p>
<p>“Better be,” Yamato murmurs, “I woke up alone yesterday.” Taichi ruffles his hair, and the warmth is gone. With another sigh, Yamato opens his eyes and sees that, yes, he’s lying maybe foot from the side of the bed Taichi just exited. When he shifts, he can see that he’s left so much room behind him that Gabumon and Agumon are lying horizontally on the bed, sprawled out on the other side, sharing the pillow Yamato’s left vacant. He inches himself away from the edge as he stretches one leg at a time.</p>
<p>“Told you,” Taichi teases, nodding at the space Yamato’s created and grinning, as he slides back into the bed. He rolls onto his side, pulling Yamato back to him and slotting their legs together. Yamato opens his mouth to argue but it’s covered quickly with Taichi’s, who kisses him hard before drawing back with a smile.</p>
<p>Yamato groans again. “Still too early,” he mutters, pushing his forehead against Taichi’s chest and closing his eyes. “Let’s just go back to sleep…”</p>
<p>Taichi huffs out a quiet laugh. “Burning daylight here, sleepy head,” he retorts, but he pulls Yamato in closer and leans back into his pillow, letting Yamato resume using Taichi as his.</p>
<p>It’s an hour or two later—a much more reasonable hour—that Yamato wakes again, still curled up against Taichi. He knows he fell back asleep, but he’s not sure if Taichi did, as, when Yamato opens his eyes, Taichi’s murmuring softly to Agumon over Yamato’s head. His eyes brighten though when he sees Yamato’s awake and he rouses Yamato slowly with warm fingers grazing over his skin, combing through his hair, and deep, open-mouthed kisses.</p>
<p>It wakes Yamato up well enough. Although it does not make him want to get out of bed.</p>
<p>Reluctantly though, Taichi tugs him out of the bed and the two of them do make their way upstairs, dressed, packed, and ready to help clean up the cabin, as Yamato’s dad wants to leave by noon. Sora and Jou appear to be the only ones awake when Yamato and Taichi step into the kitchen, both of them already hard at work—one cleaning up the main floor and one making breakfast, speaking softly to each other as they go about it.  </p>
<p>“Good morning,” Sora says softly when she sees them. She moves over to the coffee maker, pouring Yamato a cup, while Jou hands Taichi tea from the pot sitting next to the stove.</p>
<p>They’re both raising the cups to their mouths when Jou clears his throat, straightens his back, and says, in his most adult voice, “We were thinking…”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Taichi quips, after a beat, holding his cup of tea in both hands, “I try not to do that.”</p>
<p>Yamato chuckles softly, between sips of scalding coffee, but Jou just purses his lips and pushes his glasses back on his nose. “We were thinking,” he continues, “That everyone needs to be on the same page. Infections. Homeostasis. Ordinemon.” He pauses for a second, and sighs, “Whatever happened to you, when you were, uh, otherwise occupied.”</p>
<p>“Otherwise occupied,” Taichi repeats dully. Yamato feels a surge of residual fear pulse through him.</p>
<p>“I—” Jou sputters, a blush appearing on his cheeks, “I don’t know what to call it.”</p>
<p>“Dead?” Yamato offers, quietly, mostly talking to himself. <em>As good as dead, </em>Yamato thinks, <em>Nishijima got him back to me, but for a moment it felt like he was dead…</em></p>
<p>“Separated from us,” Sora says, diplomatically. She looks at Yamato, levelling him with one of those all-seeing looks of hers. He looks away. “We were thinking, it might be a good time to talk. Today. While we eat. When everyone’s fresh.”</p>
<p>“While everyone has items that can be used to stab each other?” Taichi jokes, miming stabbing Yamato with a chopstick. Underneath the joke, he looks slightly pained.</p>
<p>“Taichi,” Sora says, levelling Taichi with the look now.</p>
<p>“Do you think people are ready, Sora, really?” Taichi asks, voice returning to serious. “People are hurting. Is this really the time?”</p>
<p>“If you let a wound fester, it just gets worse,” Jou interjects. “Better to disinfect it now.”</p>
<p>Taichi’s stare drifts from Jou to Sora to Yamato, searching their faces. Finally, he sighs, and agrees, with an edge of reluctance to his voice. “Fine. We can talk. Koushiro is probably ready to go resume his lecture anyway.”</p>
<p>Sora nods her head, both her and Jou looking similarly relieved. Yamato just feels uneasy, on his own behalf, but also on Taichi’s, who looks nervous, rubbing at the back of his neck and staring off into space. “We’ll get through this,” Yamato murmurs, when Jou and Sora turn back to the kitchen and their cleaning.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Taichi says, unenthusiastically. He grips his cup a bit tighter.</p>
<p>Within the next half an hour, the rest of the Chosen pile into the kitchen and adjoining living area. There’s minimal talking as everyone takes a seat—splitting off into factions, the older Chosen, digimon, and Meiko taking seats in the kitchen, Taichi hovering around the kitchen island with Agumon, Koushiro and Tentomon; Hikari, Takeru, and partners, seated on the couch together, only speaking to each other; and Daisuke, Ken, Miyako and Iori, and their partner digimon sitting on their floor together, backs towards the couch.</p>
<p>Taichi waits a few minutes before clearing his throat and drawing everyone’s attention to him. Twenty-two pairs of eyes swivel to look at him, everyone except Hikari, who keeps staring at her hands. Takeru’s arm is looped around her shoulder protectively.</p>
<p>“It’s time we get everything out in the open. To tell every part of what happens, so that everyone is on the same page,” Taichi says. He waits a few seconds for interruptions but receives only silence in return. “Okay,” he continues, “I’ll start.” And he does, starting at the beginning with the first instance of an infection and Kuwagamon’s appearance, the appearance of the distortions, and their first fight against Alphamon. He pauses there and turns to Daisuke, “Tell everyone what you told me.”</p>
<p>Daisuke scowls. “Why is that important? This is supposed to be about telling us what happened last night!”</p>
<p>“We’re getting there,” Taichi says, calmly. “But your part of the story is important too.”</p>
<p>“Hardly,” Daisuke grumbles, “We were doing nothing as nobody bothered to look for us.” He scowls again, but he obediently stands up and starts talking in a dull monotone, nothing like his regular expressive voice, while staring at the ceiling. “It was the weekend. Right at the end of May, and I was at Ken’s place. Ken could feel something weird happening and because his neck was starting to bother him it had to be something Digital World related. Ken thought it might be coming from the Dark Ocean, so we called Miyako and Iori and we went to investigate.”</p>
<p>“Thanks for that,” Miyako mutters under her breath.</p>
<p>To his credit, Daisuke ignores her quip, continuing, “We were in the Digital World investigating the place near the cliffs where Miyako, Ken, and Hikari entered the Dark Ocean a few years ago, when the whole place went glitchy and we ended up inside a black hole.”</p>
<p>“What you have described as a distortion,” Ken adds, when Daisuke looks down at him momentarily. Ken nods encouragingly.</p>
<p>“Then Alphamon appeared. We got wrecked. And we woke up two months later in hospital,” Daisuke finishes, sitting down again with a thump, leaning slightly into Ken for support. Miyako’s hand comes up to squeeze Daisuke’s shoulder, which Daisuke meets with a grateful smile.</p>
<p>For the rest of them, Daisuke’s story is met with stunned silence and awkward shuffling. Taichi doesn’t look surprised and the taut look on Koushiro’s face, as well as his small nod at Ken during his interjection, seems to imply that Koushiro has some sort of knowledge of the situation, but a hushed silence falls upon everyone else. It’s only broken, when Mimi whispers, “Two months?”</p>
<p>“Yep,” Daisuke responds, clicking his tongue. “Thanks again for that,” he says, looking over his shoulder and glaring at Takeru and Hikari.</p>
<p>Takeru grimaces, his face already pale and he’s holding on tightly to Hikari’s hand. Nevertheless, his voice is defensive when he responds, “I told you, the Agency was covering it up. It’s not our fault.”</p>
<p>Daisuke rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, sure.”</p>
<p>“I’m certain that didn’t help, but—” Miyako tries to add.</p>
<p>“Enough,” Taichi interrupts, sternly, shaking his head at both of them. “Let’s continue.”</p>
<p>And so, he and Koushiro do, switching off telling parts of the story, as if they’d rehearsed in advance. Koushiro in particular spends considerable time explaining the devolution of Meicoomon into a rampant Raguelmon, essentially trying to emphasize that they had no choice.</p>
<p>Taichi does no such thing, sticking to facts and stating them in an almost detached manner: the abduction of Meicoomon by Gennai, posing as the Digimon Emperor—causing Ken’s face to tighten and Daisuke to enclose one of Ken’s hands in both of his in support; the fight against an infected Imperialdramon; their return to the Digital World and effort to rekindle their friendship with their partner Digimon; and Gennai’s attack against Meiko. Koushiro, for his part, also explains Homeostasis’ first appearance and message about the reboot of the Digital World; the spread of the infection to their own partners; and subsequent reboot of the Digital World, which was part of Yggdrasil’s’ plan to sever the connection between humans and digimon.  </p>
<p>Taichi picks the threat back up at that point, touching on the fight between Omegamon, Raguelmon, Jesmon, and Alphamon. It’s at that point that, he pauses, and looks to Yamato. “You’re up,” he says, nodding at him, and leaning back against the kitchen island.</p>
<p>Yamato feels like his entire body is shaking. He draws in a deep breath before he starts talking, trying to steady himself and struggling to keep his voice from quavering. Yamato skips over the exact moments when Taichi fell, not wanting to relive that particular moment in front of everyone, but he tells everyone about Ordinemon’s formation; about Hackmon appearing to tell of Homeostasis’ plan to reboot digital technology in the Real World—keeping back the part about wanting to strangle the rookie version of Jesmon, the main reason Taichi was taken from him; about drawing Ordinemon to the sea; and about how close they were to losing.</p>
<p>“And that’s when you came back,” Yamato says, inches from collapsing in on himself.</p>
<p>“Right,” Taichi says, glancing at Yamato for a second, before carrying on, explaining how the final battle happened. Taichi’s retelling of everything that happens almost feels clinical—something Yamato would expect from Koushiro, not Taichi, but it as if being detached is the only way he can get the words out.  “And this brings us to last night. Last night Homeostasis, a sort of Digital World messenger, decided to pay us another visit—what?” Taichi breaks off, turning to Koushiro who is hovering at his shoulder looking apprehensive.</p>
<p>“I don’t believe it’s exactly correct to say Homeostasis is a messenger of the Digital World. Homeostasis is a digital lifeform, but I feel it’s allegiance to the current construct of the Digital World is sort of dubious at best, however its primary machination is almost certainly to promote balance between the Digital World and the Real World,” Koushiro explains, fidgeting in his place.</p>
<p>“Would you like to explain?” Taichi says, sarcastically, gesturing to their audience.</p>
<p>Koushiro purses his lips. “No, carry on.”</p>
<p>Taichi stares at him for a second longer before shaking his head and turning his attention back to everyone. “As Koushiro said,” Taichi continues, “Homeostasis’ goal has been to promote—as it would say—harmony and stability between the Real and Digital World. This is not the first time we’ve had the pleasure of interacting with Homeostasis, but hopefully it is the last, seeing as its message appeared to be simple: Homeostasis’ goal is to perform a shutdown on Yggdrasil, and lock that entity out of the Digital World.”</p>
<p>“And that will stop the infections?” Mimi asks, pointing her question at Koushiro.</p>
<p>“That is what Homeostasis is claiming,” Koushiro responds. “Of course, we won’t leave anything to chance, I’m already checking into things…”</p>
<p>There are a few seconds of murmured responses to Koushiro’s assertion, before Takeru breaks through the noise with a question. “Are we just supposed to believe you?” Takeru says, pointing his question at both Taichi and Koushiro. “How do we know that’s all Homeostasis said? How do we know you’re telling us everything?”</p>
<p>Daisuke rolls his eyes, but Iori interjects first, “Why would he lie, Takeru?”</p>
<p>“And we heard most of it,” Yamato adds from the other side of the room, trying to catch his brother’s eye and will him to be quiet.</p>
<p>“Did we?” Takeru asks, “Why did Homeostasis wait for you to be alone with Hikari to even appear?”</p>
<p>Taichi’s eyes narrow, looking hard at Takeru. “Your guess is as good as mine.”</p>
<p>“It’s not the first time Homeostasis has interrupted a rather… tense moment,” Koushiro tells them, glancing between Yamato and Taichi and blushing a bit sheepishly. Yamato scowls and he looks away quickly.</p>
<p>“Are you trying to tell me that the Digital World guardian just has a flair for the dramatic?” Mimi says, giggling a little bit.</p>
<p>Koushiro shrugs in response. “Homeostasis is probably aware that Taichi is our leader, and Hikari is the only one it can communicate through. That was”—he looks apologetically at Taichi—“the first time they’ve been in close proximity to each other in a while. It’s not unreasonable to think that Homeostasis was waiting—”</p>
<p>“You’re still not answering the one of the main questions,” Hikari says, head jolting up from her lap for the first time. “We know most of this.”</p>
<p>“Not all of us,” Daisuke snaps, adjusting his upper body to glare at Hikari behind him, without ever letting go of Ken’s hand. “Remember abandoning us? Means we don’t know things.”</p>
<p>Hikari ignores him, continuing, “What happened to <em>you</em>?” The sibling’s gazes meet in a steady glare for a few seconds, before Hikari adds, “I asked you a month ago. You still haven’t answered. What happened to you when you disappeared, Taichi?”</p>
<p>Taichi clears his throat, audible as everyone else—even Daisuke—has fallen quiet. “I don’t entirely know. I woke up in computer lab of sorts,” Taichi says, speaking to everyone, but eyes narrowed in on his sister. “I was there, and so was Mr. Nishijima. He was badly injured.” Taichi’s voice falters a little and Yamato wants to badly to reach out for him. Agumon responds instead, nuzzling into Taichi’s leg, murmuring something too low for anyone to hear. Taichi looks down for a second, running a thumb across Agumon’s forehead. “He managed to use the system to send me back to the Real World, but he died in the process.” He pauses again. “When the lab exploded.”</p>
<p>“Or from his injuries,” Koushiro says softly, the only one is able to speak. Everyone else staring at Taichi, trying to digest this new part of the story.</p>
<p>“He died in the Digital World?” Sora whispers. Jou looks pale as he reaches over to rub a hand over Sora’s shoulder.</p>
<p>Taichi nods curtly. “Yes.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Mimi says, looking visibly shaken. “That’s so horrible.” Her words are backed up by most of everyone murmuring apologies and agreements.</p>
<p>“That is horrible,” Hikari replies last, her voice wavering slightly. She does look shaken at the news, paling slightly, words coming out slowly. “Mr. Nishijima didn’t deserve that… But… how did you come back from that, with the resolve to do what you did?”</p>
<p>“You did still kill a partner digimon, Taichi,” Miyako says, softly, averting her eyes from where Daisuke is levelling her with a death glare.</p>
<p>“Exactly. Thank you, Miyako.” Hikari says, giving the other girl a small smile.</p>
<p>“Oh, shut up,” Miyako mumbles back and Hikari’s smile falters. “I’m stating a fact, not agreeing with you.”</p>
<p>“It needed to be done, Hikari,” Meiko says, quietly, inserting her trembling voice before Taichi can reply. Everyone swivels to look at her—she’s been so quiet this entire time, Yamato had forgotten she was even there. “Mei was in pain. She was hurting people!”</p>
<p>“Meiko,” Hikari replies, looking shocked. “You don’t need to say that.”</p>
<p>“I’m not just saying it,” Meiko says, a bit stronger. “You’re lucky. You and Tailmon’s bond is so great that you managed to call her back. And I’m so thankful for that. But I… Mei and I weren’t so lucky; our bond couldn’t overcome her… anger. There was no choice.”</p>
<p>“Meiko, that’s just not true,” Hikari protests.  </p>
<p>“Yes,” Meiko says, “It is true. You all did the only thing that could be done. She’s free now.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to believe that!” Hikari whispers. “You lost your partner, because of us. She’s not free, she’s <em>gone. </em>She can never come back, you know that, right?”</p>
<p>“I know,” Meiko whispers, letting her hand be caught up in Mimi’s and shooting the other girl a grateful look.</p>
<p>“See, Hikari,” Daisuke interjects, “Even Meiko gets it.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t make it right, Daisuke!” Hikari snaps.</p>
<p>Daisuke slams a fist into the ground. “Can you at least stop acting like Taichi is the only one that did something wrong? He led you all to stopping a damn crisis, and still manages is the only reason the four of us are standing here is because of him.”</p>
<p>Yamato’s head flies up at that, but it’s Jou that gets the question out first: “What do you mean reason you’re standing here?”</p>
<p>“It’s obvious isn’t it?” Daisuke says, looking around the room of Chosen.</p>
<p>“Daisuke, not now,” Taichi tries, glaring at him.</p>
<p>“No, they should know!” Daisuke shoots back, gazing at him with wide eyes. “I know that you don’t want to admit it and I don’t get why. But I know what I know. It’s obvious. Koushiro said that—Ken tell them.” He waves his hand at Ken who looks bashful.</p>
<p>“Koushiro, you said it yourself that whoever returned us from the Digital World did it from inside,” Ken says, softly. He turns to face Koushiro. “And by your account, Taichi appeared at roughly the same time we returned, likely by a similar manner unless we are to believe that two inter-dimensional portals not requiring a D3 opened at exactly the same time transporting both our group and Taichi. That seems like more of a coincidence that I’d be willing to believe. Given the rate that portals open at, it seems more likely that someone opened just a single port¾”</p>
<p>Koushiro rubs his chin thoughtfully, “That does make¾”</p>
<p>“I didn’t get you back!” Taichi snaps, not letting Koushiro finish. He looks irritated and sounds exasperated. “You four just happened to be there. And Nishijima managed to get us out. I didn’t do anything.”</p>
<p>“You saved our lives,” Daisuke argues, “You’re the only one here that did anything.” He mouths something further at Takeru, but Yamato can’t make it out from his position around the table, but he’s sure it’s something along the lines of ‘unlike you’</p>
<p>“I just got lucky,” Taichi insists. “Nishijima did saved us. Don’t credit me.” His voice is imploring Daisuke to stop pushing this, mouth set in a straight line, and refusing to meet anyone else’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Why won’t you just admit it?” Daisuke prods, voice growing increasingly louder. Yamato has the same question, and he keeps searching Taichi’s posture, Taichi’s face—trying to pinpoint the reasoning for his protest, but not coming up with anything more than he simply doesn’t want to be thought of as a hero, not when he left someone behind. “You at least cared, unlike these two.” He gestures at Hikari and Takeru.</p>
<p>“We’re not the bad guys here!” Takeru snaps.</p>
<p>“Okay, nobody is the bad guy¾” Sora tries to reason.</p>
<p>“Taichi’s not either!” Daisuke yells back at Takeru, “Sure, he made a hard choice. But at least his choices saved people. You guys fucking forgot about us. You weren’t even <em>there</em> when everything went to shit, and we got taken. Where the fuck were you, Takeru? Tell us <em>that</em>.”</p>
<p>“Daisuke, stop,” Miyako says, putting her hand on Daisuke’s shoulder and squeezing.</p>
<p>“We might be the B team, but you fucking abandoned us, so I don’t know what that makes you,” Daisuke says, angry, but voice lined with vulnerability.</p>
<p>“We didn’t mean to abandon you, Daisuke,” Takeru continues, face tense, “But as you just heard, we were a little fucking busy saving the damn world—” Hikari’s hand comes up onto his arm to stop him from saying anything further, as Daisuke’s jaw drops and Miyako looks close to tears again. Iori also looks shattered, clinging to his digimon partner and hiding behind Daisuke.</p>
<p>“You’re a fucking asshole,” Daisuke mutters, before something in the room snaps and he leaps from his spot on the floor, jumping at the couch where Takeru sits. Hikari screeches, scrambling to the side of the couch as Daisuke tackles Takeru. Being stuck between Daisuke and couch, Takeru’s only defense is to try and push Daisuke away from or wail punches down onto Daisuke’s back.</p>
<p>“Don’t break anything!” Mimi and Palmon yelp, unhelpfully.</p>
<p>Miyako gasps, “Daisuke! Takeru don’t hit him, he’s still hurt!”</p>
<p>Yamato scrambles to his feet, joining Taichi in darting the few metres across the main floor to pull the two younger boys apart before they actually do break something—or each other. “Okay, Daisuke, enough,” Taichi says, grabbing Daisuke by his shirt and pulling him off the ground. The younger boy lets out a frustrated laugh, “We all made mistakes, Daisuke.”</p>
<p>“I guess I’ll stop kidding myself that we were ever friends,” Daisuke spits at Takeru, as his hand comes up to his ribs, protecting them.</p>
<p>“Enough!” Taichi states, louder this time. Taichi releases Daisuke, who is instantly grabbed by Ken, who, fearfully, starts checking him over for any reinjuries. “Everyone, enough. We <em>are </em>all friends. We all made mistakes. All of us.”</p>
<p>Taichi pauses, looking around the room at the range of expressions on everyone’s face. Taichi pauses when he gets to Yamato, and Yamato meets his eyes, both of them taking a second just for themselves; for a second, in the middle of all the chaos, there’s just them.</p>
<p>“We all made mistakes,” Taichi repeats, and Yamato holds his gaze, seeking to give Taichi something to ground himself in. “But we’re going to have to find a way to forgive each other, if not for the fact we’re all friends, then because we’re Chosen. We have to be able to trust each other.”</p>
<p>For a minute, nobody says anything. Finally, Hikari looks at Taichi. “Maybe none of this can be forgiven, Taichi,” she says, quietly, as she grabs Takeru’s hand to lead him away.</p>
<p>“Finally, something I agree with her on,” Daisuke mutters, staring at the ground. Ken wraps an arm around him and guides him down the stairs, everyone else dispersing soon after.</p>
<p>After a few minutes, Yamato, Taichi, and Jou are the only ones left standing in the kitchen. “Well,” Yamato says, with a sigh, looking at Jou, “I think the wounds still festering.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The ride back to Odaiba is agonizingly quiet, so much so that even Hiroaki seems reluctant to break the grip that silence has on the van. His dad looks at him once or twice as if seeking some sort of enlightenment on the scenario, but Yamato ignores him. He just reaches forward to turn up the radio and then pulling his hood over his head, turning to face the window and stare at the highway passing them by.</p>
<p>The rest of the car’s occupants are similarly quiet. All the younger Chosen have piled into Jou’s car, Mimi’s ditched everybody to ride with Meiko, leaving the awkward company of Takeru, Hikari, Sora, Taichi, and Koushiro in the van, without even their digimon to ease things, given that Koushiro’s sent them all back to the Digital World. And while Yamato can see Takeru murmurs words to Hikari every once in a while, the rest of everyone is solely omitting an audible tension.</p>
<p>Koushiro is the first to be dropped off, and when the van pulls up to his building, both him and Taichi fling themselves out of the car, grabbing their bags as they call hasty thank you and goodbyes. “I’ll get home from here! Thanks Mr. Ishida!” Taichi shouts as he closes the van door, waving enthusiastically and looking relieved. Yamato glares at him for ditching early, feeling the loss of him instantly.</p>
<p>Takeru is the next, living closer to Koushiro than either Yamato, Sora or the Yagami’s. When Hiroaki pulls up to Yamato’s mother’s building, Takeru kisses Hikari’s cheek gently, murmuring her a promise to call that evening. He tries to sound cheerful as he thanks their dad and jumps out of the van, backpack in hand.</p>
<p>“Be right back,” Yamato mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt and hustling after Takeru. “Wait a second!” he calls, jogging a few steps to catch up. “Just wait.”</p>
<p>Takeru pivots, freezing in place and glaring slightly at Yamato, face tense. “What?”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to leave things like that,” Yamato says, running both hands through his hair. “Fighting. I don’t want to fight with you.”</p>
<p>Takeru frowns. “I don’t want to fight with you either,” he says, hesitatingly. “But we seem to have different views on… all of this…” Takeru waves his hand aimlessly in the air before dropping it hard against his thigh.</p>
<p>“We can get past that,” Yamato urges, although he’s not really sure how. They walk a few more paces to the front door, which Takeru opens, letting them into the building, where they pause to stare at each other some more.</p>
<p>Takeru raises his hand to remove his hat from his head, wringing it in his hands; a nervous gesture Yamato has long begun to recognize. “Do you think Daisuke is right?” Takeru asks, hesitantly. “That we’re the bad guys?”</p>
<p>Yamato pauses, shoves his hands in his pockets. “We all made mistakes, Take,” he replies, swallowing the real answer he wants to scream.</p>
<p>“Taichi disappeared and you just kept going,” Takeru points out. He leans against the wall, squaring up to face Yamato.</p>
<p>“That’s not the same,” Yamato snaps, more briskly than he intends. He regrets it instantly, taking another breath to steady himself before continuing, “There was an immediate threat that we <em>knew </em>about. Sora gave me the option to stay and look for Taichi, but I did what he would’ve wanted me to, despite what I wanted.”</p>
<p>Takeru sighs. “We’ve all grown apart, Yamato. Different schools… Different apartment buildings… It’s different now.”</p>
<p>Yamato shrugs. “Okay,” he replies, not knowing what to say. His brother obviously wants to hear words he can’t honestly say.</p>
<p>“You agree with him, don’t you?” Takeru asks again, frowning, “You do. Be honest with me.”</p>
<p>“I think we should have all done better by them,” he says, trying for a half-truth.</p>
<p>Takeru’s frown deepens, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration. “Come on Yamato, be honest with me.”</p>
<p>Yamato draws a breath in through clenched teeth, willing himself to keep a calm tone. “Fine, you want honesty? Yes, I agree with him. There’s <em>nothing </em>in this world that would keep me from noticing Taichi was gone or finding him. Nothing. He’s part of me! He disappears and I would tear worlds apart to get that part of me back. I wouldn’t stop until I found him, alive, or I saw a body.”</p>
<p>His tone is sharper than he intended as Takeru recoils. “Thanks a lot, big brother,” he snaps shoving his hat back on his head and jamming the elevator button with his finger.</p>
<p>“Take, I’m sorry,” Yamato tries, “That came out wrong.”</p>
<p>“Whatever,” Takeru mutters. “I’ll see you at your show next weekend,” he calls back over his shoulder before stepping into the elevator, leaving Yamato standing there, behind a wall separating them that feels absolutely impenetrable.</p>
<p>Yamato makes his way back to the van hastily. His face must be particularly stormy as Sora’s mouth opens in a small o-shape, as he jumps back into his seat. He draws the seatbelt across his waist with some force, snapping it into place before he crosses his arms over his chest.</p>
<p>“Everything okay?” his dad inquires, looking concerned, even as he starts the engine again.</p>
<p>“Yeah, peachy,” Yamato mutters. “Just drive.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was another ridiculously long one. Hopefully it wasn't too chaotic or me just expounding on things, a la Koushiro. I felt like there was a lot in here... Hopefully not too much.</p>
<p>As a side not, now that I'm at 15 chapters, I checked the A03 Stats again - there's 114 of you subscribed to this? Madness. Who are all fo you lovely people? I hope to inspire you to on day leave a comment. One day, maybe; for now just know I appreciate all of you. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Troubled Mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for this chapter: discussions/descriptions of PTSD.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong> <strong>Chapter Sixteen: Troubled Mind</strong> </strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>And it won't let up, it's like a bad dream </em><br/>
<em>They say I got a troubled mind </em><br/>
<em>Shaking like a sad teen </em><br/>
<em>Gotta say I got a troubled mind</em><br/>
<em>– Troubled Mind, Dan Mangan</em></strong>
</p>
<p> </p><p>Amongst the older Chosen, everyone has a different opinion on what the fallout from the weekend’s events will actually be. Expectations vary considerably, depending on who Taichi talks to, and by mid-week, he’s heard everyone’s opinion.</p><p>Mimi seems to think that the weekend’s events just go to show that the Chosen should let loose and drink together more often, as everyone is wound so tightly. She accepts no responsibility for her drinking games going to hell-in-a-pretty-pink-handbag, rather believing that her game was the catalyst that allowed people to be truthful with one another and they could all learn to be more open about their feelings. “A little sincerity is never a dangerous thing,” she quipped.</p><p>Koushiro chimed in at that moment to correct the record, stating that actual Oscar Wilde quote is “A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.” However, he stressed, that quote isn’t necessarily applicable to the scenario. Koushiro’s—scientific—position is that while he disagrees with the unstructured and uncontrolled method by which people unveiled the complexities of their emotions to each other, it’s always better to have all the variables out on the table. He believes, in short—which he was not—that while the immediate consequences of the “Truth or Dare” experiment will likely be negative, long-term impacts may turn out to have a net benefit to the group. Nevertheless, at least people’s anxieties are out in the open now, and it’s always better to have more data.</p><p>Jou thinks that this whole debacle just proves that he was right in the first place: citizens who are under-age should not partake in the consumption of alcoholic beverages, as it only leads to bad, terrible, potentially friendship-ending, things. But hopefully that’s not the case this time.</p><p>Publicly, Yamato’s position is that Truth and Dare is stupid, and it was always going to end badly. However, Jou can’t put the blame on alcohol, just the individuals who can’t hold their drink or control their tempers—the latter statement being one that everyone agrees is laughable coming from Yamato. Aside from that, Yamato agrees with Koushiro: people needed to unload their feelings. The method wasn’t ideal, and short-term, the consequences seem to be dire. He just shrugs when asked about long-term—he’s not in the hypothesizing business, nor does he practice the art of divination.</p><p>But privately, between Taichi and him, Yamato is angry and worried, because the fall-out from this is hurting the people he cares about most, and he spends considerable time wishing that he could knock some sense into everybody’s, but specifically their sibling’s, heads. </p><p>Even more privately, Yamato is terrified. He hasn’t voiced it, but Taichi can tell. It’s the little things, like the way Yamato’s thumb hovers over his phone’s contact list when he thinks Taichi’s not looking; or the pensive, forehead-crinkled look he gets when staring into space; or the invitation Taichi receives to come over for dinner on a Tuesday, even though Taichi’s usually on ignore on Tuesdays because that night is reserved for Takeru; or that when Yamato’s not rehearsing songs in preparation for the following weekend, the chords he’s mindlessly strumming are all sad ones. So, he doesn’t say it, but Taichi knows he’s scared that this is the start of a second estrangement in his family, and that the fragile foundation, that he believes his relationship with his brother is built, is crumbling.</p><p>Sora is the most optimistic about the whole thing. She tuts softly at the rest of them when they discuss the doomsday scenarios, preaching patience and compassion, and rolling her eyes at Jou’s worrying that this is the end of the Chosen as they know it. “We’ve been to hell before,” she chides them all, “And we’ve come back from it.” And when they protest, she adds, “It’s not like we haven’t had intense arguments before”—eyeing Taichi and Yamato in particular—“tension is normal, a part of being a team, a part of friendship.” Patience, faith, compassion, and love form the tenants of her mantra.</p><p>In Taichi’s opinion, Sora’s view seems overly simplistic. These tensions run deep and hot and angry. And he’s not sure that just standing in the sun and repeating that time heals all wounds is going to cut it.</p><p>Then again, Sora’s usually right, so what does he know.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>And even if the team gets through this, Taichi has doubts about himself.</p><p>He feels like a shell of his former self, spending most days with a significant thrum of static underlying his skin; a current that hums directly below the surface, threatening to overwhelm him at any moment. It’s always there: lapping at the edges of his sanity, hovering on the edge of overtaking him—<em>failure, deserter, murderer, coward, monster, </em>the voice whispers. And sometimes it wins. Each time the wave overtakes him, it causes a tightness in his chest so pronounced it feels like choking; a billowing in his head that creates a dizziness like he’s being hanging upside down for hours, all tingling legs and numb hands.</p><p>It’s the worst at night. It’s been weeks since he slept straight through, rocketing to a seated position every few hours, heart beating out of his chest. The images of the laboratory are seared onto his eyelids: shadows of the faces trapped in the pods; a clock counting down; the soft glow of computers illuminating Nishijima’s dying face. Nishijima’s words, overlayed and juxtaposed with Gennai’s crazed laughter.</p><p>He knows he’ll get through this, because he has to, because he can’t be this weak or this damaged. But when he’s in the thick of it, reliving every detail, it certainly doesn’t feel like it.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Taichi sees him around the edges of his jam sessions, but Yamato spends most of his days and much of the evenings rehearsing with his band. Yukata—Yamato’s asshole guitarist—seems to have taken over as band drill sergeant, demanding that the four members of Knife of Teenage Wolves, or whatever they’re calling themselves these days, use pretty much every waking moment to perfect their set. And as Agumon, as well as the rest of the digimon, are back in the Digital World, Taichi’s incessant need to keep busy, brings him to Koushiro’s office, every afternoon, where he mostly paces in front of Koushiro’s computer.</p><p>“He’s got to be out there somewhere,” Taichi mutters, on the Thursday afternoon, as Koushiro announces for the tenth time that he despite scanning each safe-house for digital-lifeforms multiple times, there is still no sign of Gennai.</p><p>“Maybe you are correct then and the ‘dark-Gennai’”—Koushiro lifts his fingers from his keyboard for long enough to throw air-quotes around the name—“was deleted, or destroyed. Or returned to his original state.”</p><p>Taichi stops in front of Koushiro’s desk, looking down at the redhead over top of his screens. “Then where’s the original, good natured if a bit batty, one at?” Taichi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Koushiro rolls his eyes at Taichi’s characterization, but Taichi cuts off any opportunity for Koushiro to reply, saying, “We weren’t sure that the infections were reversible, but they obviously are because V-mon and Wormmon were perfectly fine—right?”</p><p>Koushiro nods sharply. “Yes, all signs point to them being completely normal.”</p><p>“Right.” Taichi runs a hand through his hair, tugging through knots. He sighs, “There were six pods down there. One empty, four with the younger kids, and one with a Gennai clone, but when we appeared in the world, only five pods were there.”</p><p>“Okay,” Koushiro says, absorbing what Taichi is telling him. Taichi can see the wheels turning as Koushiro analyzes the problem, turning it around in his head like a 3D image that just needs to be looked at the right angle. Usually, under better circumstances, Taichi knows just to let his friend think, but he’s growing impatient.</p><p>“Okay?” Taichi repeats, staring at his friend who offers him a pitiful shrug. “That’s all you have to say?”</p><p>Koushiro frowns. Responsibly, Koushiro takes a pause before responding, “Well, you’re not exactly giving me a lot to go on, Taichi. And it’s not exactly like Gennai’s ever been easy to find in the past.”</p><p>Under Taichi’s skin, the current sparks, flaring up and pushing something inside him over the edge. “Well, figure it out,” he snaps. “Otherwise, what good are you?”</p><p>If Koushiro looks taken aback, it’s only for a brief second, before he pulls his mouth into a straight line and stares at Taichi, analyzing, clearly deciding how to approach this. “Maybe we should take a break,” he decides to say, tone shifting into something sympathetic and concerned. “Do you want a drink? Or we could go get food.”</p><p>“I don’t want to take a goddamn break, Koushiro,” Taichi snaps again. His voice feels disconnected from his mind, the words coming out harsher than he intends, but everything feels hot, scorching the words on their way out of his mouth. “I want to figure out where the hell Gennai has got off to—either version of him!”</p><p>“It’s not that easy!” Koushiro snaps back, standing up abruptly, the chair rolling back hard into the window behind him. “Why is this so important? At least tell me that.”</p><p>“Because he killed Nishijima!” Taichi yells, emotions rolling off of him in heated waves now, “Because I watched him die in front of me. Because that bastard threatened us, set the fucking lab to explode, and made it so I had to <em>leave </em>him there to die.”</p><p>Koushiro’s mouth falls open as Taichi stops yelling and falls back onto the couch with a sigh, lowering his head into his hands. Silently, Taichi wills Koushiro to start typing again—if Koushiro was really as smart as they think he is, Koushiro would start typing again—but instead, Koushiro moves around his desk and comes to sit on the table in front of Taichi.</p><p>“Taichi?” Koushiro asks, once he’s sitting in front of him. Taichi feels a hesitant hand land on his knee. “First of all, my sincerest regrets that you had to go through that. On your own. I can’t imagine how awful that must have been,” Koushiro continues, voice soft and concerned. “But maybe looking for answers isn’t what you need right now.” Taichi picks his head up to look at Koushiro. As soon as they make eye contact, Koushiro’s hand withdraws and Koushiro clears his throat. “What you went through was traumatic. It would be perfectly reasonable—even expected—for you to seek out someone to talk to about what you went through. About 1.3% of the Japanese population deals with PTSD on a life-long basis. Although I’m not sure of statistics on seeking therapy post-traumatic events, that’s a bit more of Jou’s area of expertise, I’m sure many of them get help…”</p><p>Koushiro trails off and Taichi just stares for a few seconds before bringing his hand to rub at his neck. “And say what? ‘Hi, sir, I’m part of this group of Chosen children who began fighting evil monsters before I hit puberty, I’d like to talk about it’,” Taichi scoffs. “No thanks. Talking to outsiders isn’t going to help. What is going to help is tracking down Gennai.”</p><p>“Taichi, I can’t guarantee we’ll even find him,” Koushiro protests. “You should talk to someone… in the meantime.”</p><p>“Are you going to help me or what?” Taichi asks, ignoring Koushiro’s additional comment. The heat in his chest is still there, but he swallows it, looking intensely at Koushiro. “As if not, I’ll just go to the Digital World, find Agumon, and we’ll do it ourselves.”</p><p>Taichi’s hoping that will strikes a chord in Koushiro. That maybe the tinge of desperation in his voice will sway him, but his friend blinks and frowns. “Taichi, I really think—”</p><p>“Whatever,” Taichi says, suddenly getting to his feet. He wipes his hands on his jeans, like that’ll brush off the heat that is coursing through his entire body. “I’m out of here. Let me know what you decide.”</p><p>And with that he walks out, before the hot current inside of him can burn anything else.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Later that evening, once the static under his skin had died down, Taichi finds himself at Yamato’s, curled up on the couch, with Yamato lying half on top of him, ostensibly watching some movie. But really, they’re focused on one another; savouring the last bit physical contact before Yamato leaves and Taichi has to go ten days without the blond being pressed up against him, warm and demanding and beautiful. He wouldn’t consider himself romantic, but being together, like this, seems like something they’ve been chasing for years, and he wouldn’t go back for anything. He needs Yamato, like this, forever.</p><p>“It’s getting late,” Yamato says, between kisses, as the movie’s end credits hum in the background. He doesn’t move from his place laying on top of Taichi. “Should we go to bed?”</p><p>Taichi adjusts, shrugging one shoulder as he brings his hands down to rest on Yamato’s hips. “I should probably go home,” he says, softly, “You have your show tomorrow. You should sleep.”</p><p>A tinge of guilt runs through him when Yamato’s face falls for a second before he catches it. He moves his mouth to Taichi’s neck, his voice sultry next to Taichi’s ear. “I sleep better when you’re here,” he murmurs, nipping at Taichi’s earlobe.</p><p>“Aw, cute,” Taichi chuckles, trying not to shiver.</p><p>“What? I do,” Yamato claims, pulling back to frown at Taichi. He props himself up with one arm so he can glare at Taichi, annoyance clouding his face. “Am I crazy, or did you stay the night more before we started…” He trails off, gesturing between them.</p><p>Taichi arches an eyebrow. “Started what?” he teases, grinning.</p><p>“You know. This,” Yamato grumbles. Taichi raises his eyebrow further and Yamato glares at him, before growling out a frustrated, “Dating—ah, fuck you.” Yamato pulls back to ease himself off Taichi and sit a separate cushion.</p><p>“No, no. Wait,” Taichi says, quickly, grabbing Yamato’s wrist. He sits up, shifting closer to the new position Yamato’s taken up on the couch. “Come back here, <em>boyfriend,</em>” he says, grinning as he puts the inflection the last word, liking the sound of it.</p><p>Yamato scowls. “I despise you.”</p><p>“You absolutely do not,” Taichi points out. He pokes Yamato softly in the ribs and gets his hand whacked away. Internally, he chuckles, amused by seeing Yamato shift so smoothly from being so soft and malleable in his hands to scowling and being irritated. It would be annoying if his complexities weren’t half of what Taichi appreciates about him. “Hey, you know where I stand. If you want to go against your rebel, nonconformity-kid nature,”—Yamato rolls his eyes at Taichi, but let’s himself be drawn into Taichi’s chest, sinking them both back into the couch—"smack labels on this and start telling people, I’m game, anytime.”</p><p>“I don’t—”</p><p>“Want to tell people yet,” Taichi finishes, “I know.”</p><p>“It’s complicated—”</p><p>“With Takeru,” Taichi completes, “I know.”</p><p>“And I really don’t want to have to listen to—”</p><p>“Mimi squeal,” Taichi concludes, with a short huff of air, “Yeah, I know that too.”</p><p>Yamato scowls again, but even as he does, he relaxes fully into Taichi’s chest, laying his head against Taichi’s shoulder. “I still want you to stay,” Yamato clarifies, softly.</p><p>Taichi sighs, ending by raking his teeth over his bottom lip. “I don’t want to keep you awake.”</p><p>“Could be fun if you did,” Yamato murmurs, low and teasing.</p><p>“Scandalous,” Taichi gasps, with a grin. “But seriously, you’re going to be miserable tomorrow if you don’t sleep and we both know it.” Taichi pauses, tucks his chin into Yamato’s hair. “I’m not really sleeping through the night…” he adds, quietly.</p><p>Yamato tilts his head upwards to look backwards at Taichi. “Still?”</p><p>Taichi shakes his head, chin ruffling Yamato’s hair. “It’s fine,” he stresses, “I’m getting enough to, like, function.” Yamato frowns, and Taichi attempts to change the subject, grinning as he teases, “Because you are upside down, you may as well be smiling right now.”</p><p>Face transitioning into a full scowl, Yamato responds by moving, dislodging Taichi from his head rest in the process. “You need to sleep,” Yamato states. He sits upright to face Taichi, pushing Taichi’s legs out of the way so he can balance between Taichi and the back of the couch. “Are you still having the nightmares? Panic attacks?”</p><p>Taichi shrugs. “Sometimes.”</p><p>“What does sometimes mean?”</p><p>“I dunno,” Taichi mumbles, “I guess a fair bit? It’s fine though. I’m getting used to it.”</p><p>Yamato reaches for Taichi’s hand. “I thought, maybe, now that we know Homeostasis can seal off Yggdrasil, they might stop.” He pauses, rubbing his thumb along Taichi’s knuckles. “I mean, we’re okay now, it’s over…”</p><p>Taichi frowns. “I don’t think it really works like that.”</p><p>“Koushiro’s confirming—” Yamato starts.</p><p>“I meant the dreams,” Taichi cuts him off, “I can’t just decide to stop having them. Or stop feeling, well, you know...” He pulls his hand away, running it through his hair viciously.</p><p>Yamato sighs. “That’s not what I meant,” he insists, “I know that.” Taichi doesn’t respond and he can feel Yamato shift anxiously on the couch next to him. “Maybe you just need to talk to someone, Taichi,” Yamato adds, softly. He pauses, glances up almost shyly. “You can talk to me.”</p><p>Taichi hesitates, reluctance stirring inside him, but Yamato nods encouragingly, looking at him with such intensity that, simultaneously, Taichi feel compelled to say something. To give Yamato something. “It’s the same dream all the time,” Taichi tells him, even though that’s not completely the truth.</p><p>There are a few versions of the nightmare. Most of the time the nightmare is the same: Taichi is trapped in the pod, banging fiercely against the glass, trying to escape. But he can’t, and, therefore, he has to watch Nishijima die over and over again. Watch his hand drop limply out of sight, illuminated in a scarlet glow and caked in crimson.</p><p>Sometimes the nightmare is hyper-focused on Gennai. Taichi sees his mad face and hears his taunts. <em>He who fights monsters… should be careful that he does not become a monster himself</em>, the mad man laughs, over and over again, echoing in Taichi’s nightmares.</p><p>Other times, the nightmare focuses on Daisuke’s and the other’s faces behind the glass. It pivots from reality, and Taichi watches as the breath slowly leaving his friends, as the pod’s life support is turned off and he fails to save them. Gennai laughs behind him, and he stares at his hands, stained with blood.</p><p>And then, sometimes, most infrequently, but also most torturously, the nightmare replaces the characters. The occupants of the pods are replaced with others he cares about, glass obscuring the faces of Hikari, or Koushiro, or Sora. Or he’s trapped in the pod, banging fiercely against the glass, watching as a different hand falls, with paler, slender fingers.</p><p>“It’s what I told you about before. Nishijima dying. I can never save him. I watch myself fail every time,” Taichi continues, reaching for Yamato’s hand again and squeezing tightly.</p><p>“Right. Okay,” Yamato says. He sounds almost eager, leaning forward in an odd mixture of encouragement and expectance. Taichi finds it jarring; he almost expects Yamato to follow-up with an explicit ‘and how does that make you feel’, but he thankfully doesn’t.</p><p>“I just… I feel,” Taichi says, anyway, following the natural curve of the conversation, “Guilty, I guess.”</p><p>“I think that’s probably pretty normal, ‘Chi,” Yamato promises, squeezing his hand.</p><p>Taichi shakes his head, dragging in a ragged breath. “I just—I should have run faster. Or not reached out to try to grab his hand. Not pulled him down with me. I should have stayed longer. Looked for a solution. Maybe the lab didn’t even explode—maybe Gennai was lying. I don’t know. I should have done more… I shouldn’t have just let him die there.”</p><p>“But from what you’ve said, it sounds like he was hurt pretty badly. Maybe he knew that. Thought your chances of getting out alive were better,” Yamato counters, softly. “Maybe he knew we needed you.”</p><p>Taichi blinks at Yamato, incredulous. “So, that makes it okay? That he died there?”</p><p>Yamato half-scowls, pulling his face back into a neutral position at the last second. “No, that’s not what I’m saying—”</p><p>“Because he’s just gone,” Taichi interrupts. “His family doesn’t even have a body to receive. I don’t even know where to look for a body. But you think that it’s okay that he died, just because I got to come back here?”</p><p>“No, Taichi, it’s not okay, but it is—”</p><p>“They might not even know what happened to him. Or that he’s the hero. And we probably can’t even them. That’s not right, Yamato,” Taichi protests. “It’s not right that I’m here and he’s not.”</p><p>“I’m not going to apologize for being glad you’re alive,” Yamato chokes out, eyes flaring in the same way they did when they were kids: narrowing in anger, but also instantly pinking around the edges. He’s still holding Taichi’s hand, but his grip is tight. “Maybe that makes me callous or selfish, or whatever, but I’m thankful he chose you over himself.”</p><p>“I should have saved him,” Taichi insists, even as the full weight of Yamato’s words hits him in the chest. “We save people, that’s what we do. That’s what <em>you </em>said. I need to—”</p><p>“We can’t save everyone,” Yamato interrupts, forcefully. “And someone needed to save you. It’s not like I was there to keep you safe, so I’m glad someone was. I’m thankful it’s over, and your safe.” Yamato clears his throat. “Taichi, I know these dreams that are upsetting you,” Yamato adds, quickly, “And I don’t like seeing you like this, upset and tired and clearly struggling. It’s obviously taking a toll on you. But you can’t obsess over what-ifs.”</p><p>Taichi just stares at him. Taichi’s hackles rise. He drops Yamato’s hand, even as Yamato shifts closer to him. “I’m not obsessing. I’m not fucking crazy.”</p><p>“I never said you were crazy,” Yamato says, slightly pleadingly, “I just mean… There was nothing else you could do. You can’t keep replaying this trying to find the solution you missed—there isn’t one. At some point you just have to… accept that something terrible happened, and move past this.”</p><p>They stare at each other for a few minutes. Yamato waiting anxiously for a response, Taichi trying to still the current inside of him. “I’m going to, you know,” Taichi promises, after a bit, swallows hard. “Get past this. Get my shit together.”</p><p>“I know,” Yamato replies, quickly. He picks up Taichi’s hand again. “I don’t doubt that. But you don’t need to get your shit together on your own. Let me help.”</p><p>Taichi forces a smile. “Okay,” he says, nodding. “I’m just not in the mood to talk about this right now. Not today. It’s been a long day.” He leans in, sliding his other hand up Yamato’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I’m still… I’m going to go home tonight, okay? I’ll stay tomorrow…” he offers, as a compromise. “After the show, until you get in the van.”</p><p>Yamato frowns, but reluctantly nods, pulling Taichi in for a kiss. Taichi can feel Yamato seeking reassurance with his lips, seeking the truth behind Taichi’s promise.</p><p>Finally, Taichi stands, pulling Yamato to his feet. Yamato walks him through the mostly dark apartment and Taichi can feel Yamato watching him put his shoes on at the door. Once his runners are on, Taichi tugs Yamato closer to him by lacing his hand around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips.</p><p>“Good night,” Taichi says, softly, as he releases him, and then he slides out the door, hoping it doesn’t appear too much like he’s running away.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The egg-shaped clock reads four AM when Taichi surges to a seated position, a maniacal laugh echoing in his head, along with the taunt he’s heard every day for the last month: <em>he who fights monsters, should be careful that he does not become a monster himself.</em></p><p>Taichi’s heart is beating out of his chest, his skin feels tingly, and there’s a thrum billowing just behind his eyes. He’s had enough experience with this by now that he knows he’s not getting back to sleep for a while, so he swings his legs out of bed with a light thump that sends a prickling feeling through his body. <em>Just don’t throw up this time, </em>he thinks, swallowing back the distaste in his mouth and trying to take deep breaths to steady himself.</p><p>When his breathing evens out slightly, he stands. His body is amped up, the current under his skin running wild. So instead of staying in bed staring at the ceiling, he throws on a sweatshirt and jogging pants, before moving to the desk and beginning to grope mindlessly for his phone that he chucked on the desk. As he’s looking, he knocks a small white piece of paper of his desk; it flutters to the ground, catching his eye. His hand reaches for it without permission, bringing the card back to face level. <em>Agent Akira Takamasa</em>, the card reads and Taichi’s chest tightens again. <em>‘When it gets too tough, too dark—and it will,’ </em>the agent had said, <em>‘Call me.’</em></p><p>Taichi shakes his head, ridding himself of the image of the suit, meticulously styled and equally presumptuous. Another outsider, from an agency that hid the fact their friends were missing, led them astray, and where one of the gency’s own worked against them. He doesn’t need help from <em>that</em>, and regardless, it’s not too tough or too dark, he’s coping <em>fine. </em>Nevertheless, his fingers move without his permission and he slides the business card back onto his desk, hiding it beneath a stack of books so it’s out of sight, and out of mind.  </p><p>Then, picking up his now-located phone, he shoves his feet into his runners and quietly slips out of the apartment. Taichi runs down the apartment building’s stairs and out into the quiet morning streets of Odaiba. He’s not sure where his feet are taking him, but then again, he is—the river, the embankment, the dirt.</p><p>When he gets there, it’s essentially empty save for a few boats out on the water and a few older couples out for entirely-too-early morning strolls. He nods at them and then spends the next hour sprinting up and down the water, from the area where the pods appeared when Nishijima saved them, to the area where Ordinemon fell.</p><p>He sprints and he tries to disperse of the fire that is seemingly burning him up. He pumps his arms and legs and tries to use up the current that hums under his skin. He tries to outrun the darkness that seems to have crept in, trying to leave the static behind. He runs, trying to figure out what this is, what is humming inside of him, what is keeping him awake at night.</p><p>It’s not fear that thrums beneath the surface, nor regret or guilt, although there’s a significant amount of that.</p><p>It’s mostly anger.</p><p>Deep-seated, primal, scorching-hot, anger.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Taichi gets back to the house around seven, slips in through the door as quietly as he can, even though he can already hear the rumble of his parents’ voices from their bedroom, and heads directly to the bathroom. He keeps the shower short—just enough to wash off the sweat created by the running and the dreaming. He leans against the tile as the water washes over him and concentrates on dredging up some strength from within him. Strength and poise and whatever else that will help still the flare of anger that thrums inside of him.</p><p>The shower cleanses him of sweat, but it does nothing to remove the bags under his eyes and the slight pallor appearance of his face, little bits of evidence of the last month of barely sleeping, that keeps getting more and more noticeable. But next to stealing Hikari’s make-up and attempting to figure out what-goes-where, there’s nothing he can do about that. So, he just blinks, glares at the restless, anxious creature that stares back at him and leaves the bathroom.</p><p>Once dressed, he heads to the kitchen, where he can hear the television humming quietly, while the kettle whistles and utensils clang against bowls. His mom is standing at the kitchen counter, fixing breakfast, while Hikari is sat at the kitchen table, book in hand, murmuring words at their mother every time Yuuko says something requiring a response.</p><p>“Morning, Taichi,” Yuuko says, with a smile, when she sees him out of the corner of her eye.</p><p>“Morning,” he says, wandering over to the kettle. He starts to make himself tea, but his mother tuts at him, pushing his hands away and starts doing it herself. Taichi lounges against the kitchen counter instead, watching her work and trying not to glance too much in his sister’s direction, lest he startle her.</p><p>Yuuko turns to hand him the mug, eyes widening slightly when her eyes land on him fully. “Are you feeling okay?” Yuuko asks, frowning. “You don’t look so good, Taichi.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” he says, trying to send her a reassuring smile. He takes the mug from her. “Just tired.”</p><p>“Something going on in the Digital World?” Yuuko inquires, brow still knitted with worry.</p><p>“No, Mom,” he lies. Hikari raises her eyes from her book long enough to meet their mother’s eyes for a second, nodding her reassurance. Taichi feels a small tinge of relief that they can be still have a united front for long enough to reassure their mother.</p><p>It doesn’t deter his mother though. She grabs his shoulder to still him and presses her hand against his forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”</p><p>Taichi pulls his head back from her hand. “Mom, I’m fine,” he grumbles.</p><p>Yuuko frowns at him. “Is it maybe the same thing that Hikari was ill with?” She shifts her gaze to where Hikari is reading quietly at the breakfast table. “She looked a bit under the weather earlier this week.”</p><p>“It’s not the same thing, Mom,” Taichi assures her, but it does little to remove the worry from her face. He places the mug down temporarily to grab a bowl off the counter, loads up whatever food breakfast consists of, he’s not sure, and takes both mug and bowl to the table. He hesitates slightly before sitting, but Hikari doesn’t move or look up from her book, so he pulls out a chair and plops himself in it.</p><p>“Are you sure you’re okay, Taichi?” his mother continues, sliding into the chair between them. “You look paler than usual. Maybe you shouldn’t go to Yamato’s show.”</p><p>“Mom, I’m fine,” Taichi says again, gritting his teeth.</p><p>“If you’re not feeling well, I’m sure he’d understand—”</p><p>“I’m fine,” he insists. “Promise. I’m going. I missed the last couple, and everybody’s going…” he trails off, hoping that’s enough of an argument, and starts shovelling breakfast into his mouth again.</p><p>“Everybody?” Yuuko looks over at Hikari. “Are you going?”</p><p>Hikari looks up from her book. “Yes, mom,” she replies, “It’s all ages, so I’m going with Takeru, and Daisuke, and Miyako, and Ken.”</p><p>Taichi tries not to look surprised at that. <em>See, progress, </em>he hears, in Sora’s voice, in her annoyingly correct-all-the-time way. Yuuko does not cover her surprise, although she has no real need to, commenting instead, “Those are a few names I haven’t heard in a while.”</p><p>His sister takes a slow sip of her tea and shrugs. “It has been a while,” she admits, with maybe a faint blush of embarrassment.</p><p>Yuuko nods. “This is nice,” she speaks up again, after a little bit. “It’s been a bit since just the three of us sat down to eat.” Hikari makes a noise that sounds like agreement, so Taichi nods and continues chewing. “Not that it’s not nice having Agumon and Tailmon around,” Yuuko adds, quickly. “Where are they anyway?”</p><p>“Digital World,” Taichi answers, between bites.</p><p>“Oh,” Yuuko responds, “Because everything is fine?”</p><p>“Yes, Mom. Because everything is fine,” Hikari chimes in. Taichi shoots her a grateful look that he’s not sure is received.</p><p>Yuuko smiles and keeps up the familiar breakfast chatter for the next twenty minutes, Hikari and Taichi chiming in when necessary. After a bit, she presses up from her seat. “Okay,” she announces, “I’m off to the shops, I’ll see you both later, and, if not, have fun tonight.” She turns to Taichi, tuts his chin up with two fingers. “Get some sleep, or you will get sick.”</p><p>Taichi grins as he pulls his head away from her fingers. “Yes ma’am,” he teases, and she smiles, before walking away, leaving Taichi and Hikari sitting at the table.</p><p>It’s silent for the remaining two minutes that they both sit at the table. Then, Hikari slips out of her chair and starts gathering her dishes. Taichi pushes the remaining bits of food around his bowl before shoving it into his mouth and putting down the chopsticks.</p><p>“Are you done with that?” Hikari asks, looking at him and holding out an empty hand.</p><p>Taichi looks up at her and, again, tries to stifle his surprise. “Yeah,” he manages. She bounces her hand in the air, and he hesitantly lifts the bowl to hand it to her.</p><p>Hikari nods and takes it, then goes to set them in the sink. “See you later,” she says, softly, before turning and starting to head back to her room, leaving him sitting there trying to gauge exactly what just happened.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There are not many places in the world where Taichi feels out of his element, but backstage at a rock show might be one of them. Or at least at this particular show. He’s been to Yamato’s shows before—backstage a few times, perks of being best friends with the lead singer—but this is pure chaos. He’s not sure when Yamato’s bands went from garage band playing shitty dive bars, to, well, this. Sometime in the year and a bit where he rarely, if ever, went to Yamato’s shows, he supposes.</p><p>This is impressive though. The venue is a small club, more of a theatre than a shady dive bar. There are people everywhere, all these professional, serious music people. There’s a buzz of activity about the place, everyone walking through the backstage and adjoining hallways with relative purpose, clearly knowing exactly what they’re doing in this place. Yamato among them. Taichi’s got a lanyard with an access badge attached, meaning he can likely wander wherever he wants, but he’s mostly tried to stick to the walls or corners, anywhere where he can be around—and therefore supportive—but not in the way. Yamato only snapped at him once, and aside from a few sharp glares from Yukata, nobody’s really complained that he’s there.</p><p>Now, it’s just over an hour before Knife of Day’s set time, the first band is about to take the stage, and Taichi is backstage hovering just down the hall from the small area the band gets to call a dressing room for the night. Everyone’s gone to get into stage gear, or is warming up, or, in Yutaka’s case, probably making sure he has a few drinks in his system before hitting the stage.</p><p>He’s been outside for twenty minutes or so when Koji exits the room. “Yamato’s the only one left in there,” the keyboardist says, now dressed in full stage gear, ripped jeans, tight black-shirt, and black eyeliner framing already dark eyes, “If you want to go in, nobody will care now. Thanks for staying out of the way.” Taichi nods and Koji gives him a thumbs up and sets off towards stage.</p><p>“Yamato?” he calls, hesitantly opening the door to the small room, hardly bigger than his bedroom at home, hence why he stuck outside for so long. Sure enough, Yamato’s the only one left in the room, sitting on a stool, planning with the pickups on his bass. Or, well, not playing, setting up—fixing—doing something musically inclined with them.</p><p>Yamato looks up at him and a small smile creeps across his lips. “Was wondering if you wandered off.” He puts down the bass and jumps of the stool, which is when Taichi can take in his whole outfit.</p><p>“Um, wow,” Taichi breathes, half-impressed, half-alarmed. His eyes trace slowly up Yamato, taking him in. “You look, um,” Taichi clears his throat. “Amazing.”</p><p>And Yamato does. He’s completely made up for the show, everything about him is tight and sleek and beautiful. He’s dressed head to toe in black, his jeans essentially sculpted to him, shirt clinging in all the places it should. His outfit is accented with silver chain that hands around his neck, sure to flash silver under the stage lights; there’s rings on every slender finger; and his eyes are huge with eyeliner, making them appear even bluer, if possible. They’ll be visible from every vantage point, ready to sear into anyone who makes eye contact.</p><p>Which, at this moment, is Taichi. Despite how coolly Yamato’s made up, a small blush still creeps onto pale cheeks at Taichi’s words. “Thanks,” Yamato replies, with a nonchalant shrug, and Taichi smiles, enjoying how, even in all the sleek stage gear, he’s still so naturally bashful. Yamato’s always been different on stage—the lights coaxing out an ego or confidence that lives slightly deeper inside of him normally—but underneath it, he’s still the same, blushing, emotional idiot that Taichi really fucking wants to kiss, professional look be damned.</p><p>So Taichi does, closing the gap between them with a few long strides, one arm coming around Yamato’s waist, the other cradling his neck as his lips come to meet Yamato’s. Taichi can’t help his hand from sneaking under that tight shirt to touch the pale skin beneath it.</p><p>“Careful,” Yamato murmurs between kisses, “Do not ruin my stage gear.”</p><p>Taichi smiles into the kiss, laughing at being scolded even while Yamato’s moans against his lips. “Promise,” he says back, before deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue into Yamato’s mouth.</p><p>He’s about to lose himself in Yamato, when there’s rap at the door and Tomohiro’s voice floats in as the door. “Yo, Ishida, you in there? Your kid brother is here.”</p><p>Yamato’s head snaps towards the door, breaking their kiss, and jumps back. Taichi has to swallow the small keening noise that wants to leave him now that his hands have been left empty. “Yep,” Yamato calls, moving to push a nervous hand through his hair, but stopping short as he remembers all the gel.</p><p>Tomohiro pushes the door open. “Oh hey,” he says, glancing between Yamato and Taichi. He turns back and gestures for Takeru to take a step through the door. “Thought you would be out front by now,” Tomohiro adds, nodding in Taichi’s direction.</p><p>Taichi looks around for an excuse, and, noting the discarded beer cans littering the table next to hm, replies, casually, “Free drinks back here. But yeah, I was about to head out. Find everybody else.”</p><p>“They’re all gathered together,” Takeru adds, smiling weakly, “I can show you if you wait up a second.”</p><p>Taichi’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he nods, and drifts over to the corner of the room where Tomohiro has cracked a beer to wait. “Nervous?” Taichi asks Tomohiro, and the affable drummer shakes his head, launching into a monologue about how he’s never nervous. Taichi half listens, but his mind has focused on the conversation happening behind him.</p><p>“Well, good luck out there,” Takeru is saying.</p><p>“Thanks,” Yamato replies, softly. Taichi can hear him shift awkwardly in place, before Yamato clears his throat and tacks on, “I’m glad you came.”</p><p>Takeru chuckles. “I wouldn’t miss it.” Takeru pauses awkwardly, crosses and uncrosses his arms over his chest a few times. “I’m sorry. For arguing with you, last weekend,” Takeru adds. Taichi turns in time to watch a shy smile slide onto Takeru’s face. “I still love you the most.”</p><p>“I love you too,” Yamato says, with a relieved sounding laugh. Taichi watches out of the corner of his eye as Yamato reaches out and captures his brother in a hug. It’s reassuring for Taichi to watch. Yamato’s face seems brighter, having let go of a huge weight, as he embraces Takeru.</p><p>“Okay,” Takeru says, “Well, break a leg, or, whatever.” He wears a bright smile of his own, as he lets go of Yamato. “See you after.”</p><p>“See you after,” Yamato repeats, looking much happier than before. Taichi wants to kiss him again, lean in and whisper ‘See? He’s not going anywhere’.</p><p>“Shall we get out there?” Takeru says, turning to Taichi.</p><p>Taichi nods. “Yep, I hear this Knife of Hair Gel band is fucking great. Better not miss them,” he replies, with a wink in Yamato’s direction. Next to him, Tomohiro huffs out a laugh.</p><p>“Get out of here, you cretin,” Yamato says, with a predictable scowl and roll of his eyes.</p><p>Taichi grins back. “Good luck,” he adds, before departing with Takeru.</p><p>“They’re this way,” Takeru says, gesturing down the hallway.</p><p>Taichi falls in step behind the younger blond. They walk for a bit, sticking close to the walls, out of people’s way, many of whom are rushing through the halls as the clock inches closer to showtime. They duck through an archway and veer towards a door marked ‘Front of House’. Right before the door, Takeru stops abruptly and grabs Taichi’s arm to halt him as well. Taichi raises a skeptical eyebrow.</p><p>“It’s loud of there,” Takeru says, as if that explains why they stopped. He chews on his bottom lip for a few long seconds.</p><p>Taichi shifts in place, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Takeru, we should find—”</p><p>“No, hold on.” Takeru’s voice is sharp, but also laced with traces of nervousness. “I, well, look—I wanted to say,” Takeru clears his throat, “Well, that I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Oh,” Taichi replies, with a blank look.</p><p>“I know that you wouldn’t hurt Hikari,” Takeru explains, apprehension clouding his face. He looks away from Taichi, staring at posters showcasing past concerts that line the walls. “I was just upset and scared and I—I’m sorry I accused you of hurting her. I know you wouldn’t. Not intentionally.”</p><p>Taichi feels like his mouth must be hanging open. He feels suspended in the moment, unable to speak for a few seconds, before finally managing to utter, in a somewhat strained voice, “Thank you.”</p><p>Takeru nods. “I’m sorry,” he says again, with a slight apologetic bow of his head.</p><p>“I’m glad she has you,” Taichi murmurs, by way of acceptance, suddenly the tiniest bit lighter.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Takeru and Taichi find the others easily enough. Over time, the group gravitates into two; younger Chosen pushing up to be nearer the front, while Taichi, along with Mimi, Koushiro, Sora and Jou hover back, still in the thick of the crowd, but far enough back that they’re not in the midst of the screaming fangirls. The crowd is loud and vibrant and enthusiastic, and Yamato is in his element, seemingly glowing on stage, feeding off the theatre’s energy.</p><p>Taichi loves watching him perform. Experiencing this side of him, so often locked away. There’s obviously distance between them, but there’s a few times where Yamato’s eyes seem to lock onto Taichi. And for a moment, even in the thick of the crowd, even with his arm slung over Sora, or Mimi, or sometimes even Koushiro’s shoulder, it feels like it’s just the two of them.</p><p>“Alright,” Yamato shouts from the stage, “You guys are amazing!” He pauses for a beat, letting the cheers drown the band out for a few minutes, then waves a hand in an attempt to quiet people. Taichi grins at Sora and rolls his eyes as Yamato flashes the crowd a cocky grin before launching into announcing a new song.</p><p>Taichi’s eyes are on Yamato when the lights change; the warm white stage light dim, and Yamato goes from being surrounded by white light to illuminated in shades of scarlet and grey, the theatre engulfed in red hues. Taichi’s chest seizes, watching as Yamato raises his hand for a brief second before bringing it down to strum a chord on his guitar to start the song, and then a wave of anxiety washes over him, and the theatre fades away. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments and kudos are love, and make me so happy, so thanks to everyone who has left them along the way.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Lay All Your Love on Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Additional Notes for this Chapter: Panic attack aftermath in Scenes 3 and 4, the latter of which has a bit of a "mature" scene between Yamato/Taichi, but nothing more than a desperate make-out scene really makes it in.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Seventeen: Lay All Your Love on Me.</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Yamato</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>I feel a kind of fear</em><br/><em>When I don't have you near</em><br/><em>Unsatisfied, I skip my pride</em><br/><em>I beg you dear</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em> Don't go wasting your emotion</em><br/><em>Lay all your love on me</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><br/><em>- Lay All Your Love on Me, Avantasia (Cover Version)</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>There’s something about being on stage that relaxes Yamato completely. It seems contradictory—the stage, the heat of the lights, the deafening sound of the screams—but it’s one of the greatest highs Yamato has ever felt, and there aren’t many things that come close to matching it. At least not of the things that are of <em>this</em> particular world.</p><p>The venue is small theatre. Yamato would be too young to even be there for most shows, but this night is an exception. The tour manager has vouched for them and the venue, probably begrudgingly, has opened the venue to anyone fourteen or older, meaning everyone except Iori is legally allowed. Which is a good thing, because the instant Mimi found out about the rescheduled show, she’d declared it a group outing and pestered everyone to get tickets—although he’s not sure how many are actually out there. There’s only one he cares about anyway.</p><p><em>Well two, </em>he thinks, as the band launches into a slightly slower song, one that he’s only somewhat embarrassed to admit is written for his brother. All week, rehearsing this particular song has felt like a continuous punch to the gut; a constant reminder of this wall is being built between his brother and him, another barrier being thrown up inside a family that’s already splintered. But, despite his initial doubts, he knows that his brother is out there, somewhere in the crowd, and that maybe, just maybe, it’s going to be okay. Maybe they can get past this. Maybe the giant rift in the group—the one that is clearly pitting Takeru and Hikari against him and Taichi—can be resolved.</p><p>Outside of his thoughts, the song carries on. Behind him, Tomohiro and Koji have bowed out, having finished their respective parts. Yutaka continues and Yamato drops his hands from his bass, sliding his harmonica from his pockets and bringing it to his lips to join the guitar for the final few bars. <em>Maybe, </em>he thinks as he hums against the metal instrument, <em>like Sora said, I just need a bit of faith and a bit of patience, and it’ll all turn out alright.</em></p><p>“Alright,” Yamato shouts from the stage, a bit later, “You guys are amazing!” He pauses for a beat, tilting his head to grin at Yutaka. The guitarist cups his ear in a mock ‘can’t hear you’ gesture. The crowd cheers louder and Yutaka shakes his head in response; all four of them marvelling at the crowd in front of them, larger and more excited than most that they’ve played in front of before. He lets the cheers drown the band out for a few minutes more as he soaks that thought in, then Yamato waves a hand up and down in an attempt to quiet people.</p><p>“Thank you!” Yamato calls into the microphone, “Now this is a new one that we’ve been working on, just for you guys!”</p><p>The house lights change and suddenly the stage is engulfed in hues of red, mimicking the shades of his guitar. Excitement flares up inside Yamato again, as he remembers that this is going to be every night for the next ten days. Ten days of this: of this magic, this peace, this fucking incredible feeling. Yamato grins, twisting his body to face Yutaka, looking at the guitarist as they count themselves into the song. Together, they both raises their fists for a second, before bringing it down on their respective guitar chords, launching them into the new song. Yamato feels the thrum of exhilaration of it from his head to his toes.</p><p>But, beneath that, there’s something else. And as he hits the fourth bar of their penultimate song and starts turning his mouth back towards the microphone, a sense of unease hits him in the chest. It seemingly knocks the wind out of him for second, and for a brief moment he looks around to see if something actually physically hit him.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>He’s missed the first words to the song now, earning himself a glare from Yutaka that he shrugs off as he picks up singing at the next opportunity. He sings, but there’s something inside him that feels off. A small part of him that is seized with an unease that he can’t shake off, telling him somewhere something is wrong.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Takeru and Sora are the first people he sees after the show. They’re standing eagerly in the area where he agreed to meet everyone, a corner just off to the side of the merch tables where Tomohiro and Koji are already trying to flirt their way through a few sales,  </p><p>“Awesome show, big brother,” Takeru exclaims, beaming. He leans in for a hug, grimacing a bit when he realizes how sweaty Yamato still is, despite attempting to wipe the sweat away backstage.</p><p>“Agreed, you guys were awesome!” Sora chimes in. Behind her, Jou nods his agreement.</p><p>“Definitely awesome,” Miyako adds, with a bright smile and a thumbs up. She’s hovering slightly behind Sora, arm resting on Daisuke’s shoulder. “I like the sound of this band more your old one,” Miyako adds. Her smile that falters as soon as she realizes how her comment has sounded. “I mean, it’s just… grittier…”</p><p>Yamato forces a smile, trying not to appear too much like he’s looking directly past everyone, even as he’s definitely searching for that familiar untameable hair and matching bright eyes. And every second he doesn’t see them, that unease inside of him grows, twisting at his insides. “Thanks,” he manages to say, reaching out to ruffle Takeru’s hair, to the irritation of his brother and amusement of Hikari, who stands just behind him, hiding a smile. “And I agree,” Yamato adds, in response to Miyako, which seems to help remove the panicked expression from Miyako’s face. “Glad you guys all came.”</p><p>“Thank you for the invite,” Ken says, bowing his head slightly.</p><p>Daisuke rolls his eyes at Ken’s formality. “Yeah, thanks, Yamato,” he says, flashing a grin. “We have to go now though. My sister’s hovering around here somewhere waiting for us.” Yamato must look slightly panicked at the jarring reminder of the elder Motomiya’s existence, as Daisuke instantly laughs and waves his hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry, she’s gone to get the car.”</p><p>“Oh,” Yamato says, dumbly. Even now Daisuke’s sister gives him the creeps—and the last thing he wants to deal with when he’s feeling this anxious is Jun Motomiya. Pushing that thought aside, he skims the area with his eyes again, trying to locate the person he’s desperate to see. Nowhere in sight. Yamato pats his jeans pockets pointlessly; he’s still in stage gear, meaning his phone is backstage, he realizes.</p><p>“So, we should bail,” Daisuke is saying, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. He grabs Ken’s arm and starts tugging. “Are you coming Miyako?”</p><p>Miyako frowns. “Yeah, I was hoping to say bye to Mimi,” she says, slowly, glancing around. Yamato follows the swivel of her head, which is the first time he realizes that neither Koushiro nor Mimi are the vicinity. “But yeah,” Miyako continues, “I’m coming.” She gives Sora a quick hug goodbye and waves at the rest of them.</p><p>Takeru reaches for Daisuke’s arm, landing gently on his forearm and keeping him in place. “Hey. I’m glad we got to hang out for a bit,” Takeru says, smiling earnestly at Daisuke.</p><p>Daisuke looks from Takeru’s hand to his eyes, drawing his arm back slowly. “Sure,” he says, with an abrupt nod. He pauses, something else obviously on the tip of his tongue, and then, as if he can’t stand Takeru thinking he’s a willing participant, he adds: “It wasn’t my idea.” His eyes shift to Ken, who blushes awkwardly.</p><p>“Okay,” Takeru says, slowly. Takeru pulls his lip into his mouth, chewing awkwardly for a second, before carrying on, “But still… we should do something, again, this weekend? Next week?” Behind him, Hikari nods enthusiastically.</p><p>“Maybe,” Daisuke grumbles, at the same time, Miyako chimes in with a forced-cheerful, “Sure!”</p><p>Yamato watches the faces of the younger cohort: Takeru and Hikari’s eagerness, pitted against Daisuke’s steeled indifference and Miyako and Ken’s awkwardness. Apparently, these wounds didn’t just heal overnight, if Daisuke’s face is anything to go by. “We’ll call you,” Miyako surmises, finally, before waving again and ushering Ken and Daisuke away. Takeru’s face falls for a second before he catches it and looks back to Yamato with a forced smile.</p><p>“I particularly like the one about wanting a certain friend of ours to shut up,” Sora says in a deliberate change of subject, an obvious attempt to break the silence that lingers once Daisuke, Ken, and Miyako have departed.  </p><p>“Same,” Yamato agrees, trying not to look too relieved at the opportunity to segue into inquiring about Taichi’s whereabouts. Everything inside of him feels constricted by the unease snaking around him. He makes a show of looking around for their missing friend. “Speaking of,” he says, trying to keep his voice even, “Where is our nonsense-spewing friend?”</p><p>“He bowed out around your second last song,” Sora explains, also looking around. “Kind of thought he’d show up here.” Her eyes shift to meet Yamato’s and she must see something panicked in there, as she quickly adds, “Mimi and Koushiro went with him, I think. I can call?”</p><p>“Call,” Yamato demands, with more of an edge than he intends. And then, he waits, stomach brewing an uneasy cocktail, and Sora takes her phone out and starts dialing.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Yamato would be embarrassed by how fast he pushes past people as he makes his way out of the venue, except he can’t be bothered to care. He’s already endured five minutes of small talk when all he wants to do is set eyes on Taichi, and hopefully quiet this unease inside of him.</p><p>Mercifully, Mimi is easy to spot, her brightly coloured outfit standing out amongst a sea of blacks and greys. She’s standing at the edge of the alley, arms crossed over her chest and her phone clenched in one hand. “Hey. Great show,” she tries, smiling faintly, when Yamato strides towards her, followed closely by Jou, Sora, Takeru, and Hikari.</p><p>“Is he okay?” Yamato asks, anxiously.</p><p>“I think so…” Mimi glances down the alley, where Yamato is guessing Taichi and Koushiro are. She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen Taichi like that,” she continues, turning to look wide-eyed at them, first at Yamato and then past him to where he assumes Hikari is standing.</p><p>Sora reaches out to put a comforting hand on Mimi’s shoulder, as Jou asks, “What happened?”</p><p>“I guess he had a panic attack?” Mimi replies, looking shaken herself. Jou frowns. “That’s what Koushiro thinks it was. Gods, I wasn’t even sure he could hear either of us for a while…”</p><p>“A panic-attack?” Hikari repeats. In the background, Jou starts rambling, but Yamato’s not listening anymore. He’s torn his gaze away from Mimi and the others and is looking down the alleyway, taking a step to push past Mimi. All he wants is to get past them and get to Taichi.</p><p>“Yamato, wait,” Mimi says, reaching out to grab his arm as he attempts to barrel past her. “Wait. Koushiro’s with him, but we probably shouldn’t—” She breaks off, as Yamato wrenches his arm out her grip and continues walking past her. “Crowd him,” he hears Mimi finish behind him, sounding exasperated.</p><p>Ignoring her, Yamato moves briskly towards the space on the other side of a dumpster where he can see Taichi’s brightly coloured sneaker stretched out, just in view. He can hear two low voices as he grows closer. “Hey, don’t worry about all of them. We can just hang out here as long as we need to,” Koushiro is murmuring, crouched in front of Taichi.</p><p>Yamato pulls up beside Koushiro. His eyes land on Taichi, trailing up from bright sneaker to pale face, with sweat-soaked hair plastered across his forehead. Yamato’s stomach twists. “Shit,” he says, forcing his voice out, even as it threatens to get stuck in his throat. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Taichi doesn’t respond. His eyes are half closed and he’s panting, still chasing his breath. Koushiro frowns, before turning his head slightly towards Yamato and reporting, “He’s okay. Coming in and out of it. But he’s mostly back now.”</p><p>“What happened?” Yamato asks Taichi, dropping into a crouch at his sides.</p><p>When Taichi doesn’t answer, Koushiro sighs. “Some sort of panic attack. I’m not entirely sure,” he replies, and Yamato tries not to glower at Koushiro too much. Koushiro recoils, glaring back at Yamato in the process. “We’re handling it <em>fine</em>,” he insists.</p><p>“Sure,” Yamato says. He feels way too on edge, wanting nothing more than to pull Taichi from the ground and get him out of here. “I’ve got it from here.”</p><p>Koushiro ignores that, turning back to their friend and rubbing at Taichi’s knee affectionately. “Hey, Taichi. Look at me. Mimi’s keeping most everyone back, but Yamato’s here now too.”</p><p>“He’s annoying like that,” Taichi mumbles. Koushiro nods, a bemused smile gracing his lips.</p><p>Yamato fingers twitch, and he makes a split-second decision, reaching out to lay his hand on Taichi’s forearm. Taichi’s face relaxes slightly at the contact. “Are you okay?” he repeats. Again, his question is directed at Taichi. He silences Koushiro’s attempt to respond again with a well-timed glare and waits for Taichi to respond himself.</p><p>“Peachy,” Taichi replies after a beat, with a small huff of laughter. Taichi opens his eyes, shifting his focus to Yamato for a second, and then murmuring, “Don’t worry, Koushiro’s babying me.”</p><p>“Not babying,” Koushiro corrects. His brow is furrowed in concern, as he frowns at Taichi.</p><p>Yamato frowns again. “Are you okay to move from this spot?” he asks, looking around. “We can get out of here.”</p><p>“Really rather not go home like this,” Taichi mutters, clutching briefly at his head, before extending his hands.</p><p>“We can hide out at my place,” Yamato says, grabbing one of Taichi’s hands and starting to tug. Annoyingly, Taichi resists, remaining stubbornly on the ground and looking up in Koushiro’s direction. Impatience flares up inside Yamato, wanting nothing more than to drag Taichi home, to his version of safety.</p><p>“Koushiro,” Taichi says, instead of cooperating, looking at Koushiro, wide-eyed. He still sounds exhausted, almost breathless. The one-word grabs Koushiro’s attention, and the two of them stare at each other, raptly. “Please…”</p><p>Yamato’s gaze flickers from Taichi to Koushiro, the latter of whom is frowning, brow creased. “Okay, Taichi,” Koushiro says, finally, sounding resigned, “Okay.” Koushiro reaches down and helps Yamato pull their friend to his feet.</p><p>“Thank you,” Taichi murmurs, with a relieved sounding sigh. His hand falls away from Koushiro and he leans slightly into Yamato’s frame. Yamato loops his arm around Taichi’s waist, grateful for the excuse to touch him, and leads him away from the alley, leaving Koushiro to deal with the others.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Yamato pawns his loadout duties onto Koji, with the promise to make it up to him once they’re on the road. Then, after enduring a stern reminder from the tour manager that the van leaves promptly at noon the next day, he puts himself and Taichi into a taxi. Throughout the car ride, Yamato keeps stealing glances at Taichi, who is leaning his head against the window, only looking up to mouth ‘I’m fine’, at Yamato several times over the course of the trip.</p><p>“Are you sure you’re okay?” Yamato asks, again, once they’re inside his apartment. They both toe off their shoes, and Yamato throws his bag on the ground, full of his regular clothes as he still hasn’t bothered to change. “What happened this—" <em>time</em>, he intends to say, but he’s cut off when Taichi’s mouth covers his.</p><p>Taichi kisses him, pushing him hard up against the wall as he does, pinning Yamato between himself and the wall. His mouth presses against Yamato’s, almost desperate. One set of fingers is already slipping under the hem of Yamato’s shirt, pushing the shirt up, while the other set has sunk into his hair. His fingers wander, feeling both eager and unsure as they skim over every patch of Yamato’s skin.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Taichi whispers, hoarsely, as he draws his mouth back. The hand that was tangled in his hair comes to cup Yamato’s chin. Yamato tears his gaze away from Taichi’s lips, looking into Taichi’s eyes which seem to be searching him, joining his fingers in conducting their survey.  </p><p>Yamato nods. “I’m fine,” he says, feeling confused. “’Chi, what happened?”</p><p>His question goes unanswered, as Taichi’s mouth descends on his again. It takes him a second to get his bearings, but Yamato presses back this time, seeking his own reassurances. As they kiss, Taichi’s hands slip down Yamato’s sides, pulling him away from the wall and walking him backwards the short distance to Yamato’s bedroom. He only removes his hands from Yamato waist for a short moment to ensure the door is closed firmly behind them.</p><p>Then, Taichi pushes Yamato to the bed, mouth claiming kiss after devouring kiss. Yamato responds to each with equal desperation, trying to feel through the kisses, sloppy and wet and unapologetic, the response to his unanswered questions.</p><p>“’Chi…” Yamato tries again, when Taichi’s mouth leaves his to start peppering kisses over his cheek and neck, hands pushing his shirt up.</p><p>Yamato’s shirt is tugged over his head before Taichi’s eyes dart back to his. There are tears in there, slowly coming to the surface. Taichi blinks and one falls the short distance between them, landing on Yamato’s cheek. “I thought I lost you…” Taichi whispers, hovering above him. His eyes skim over Yamato’s body. “I thought—I saw… The lights changed, and I thought that I saw you—” he breaks off, swallowing hard, as if trying to force words past a lump in his throat. “I couldn’t get to you. I couldn’t save you…”</p><p>Taichi’s breathing kicks up a notch again and his fingers tighten around Yamato’s waist, digging into his hip, even as Yamato can feel them shaking. Yamato reaches up to touch Taichi’s jaw, startling him out of wherever he’s gone again. “Hey, just breathe; I’m right here,” he says, softly, “Nothing happened to me.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Taichi says, head jerking as he refocuses. His arms are trembling, and he collapses on his forearm, so he’s laying right on top of Yamato. “I thought, for a second, that you were… that you were de—gone.”</p><p>“Hey, shush,” Yamato says, guiding Taichi onto his side, so they’re laying side-by-side on his bed. His hand still cradles Taichi’s face. “It wasn’t real.”</p><p>“It felt real,” Taichi whispers, gripping him tighter. “Are you sure you’re okay?”</p><p>“Yes, Taichi, I’m okay,” Yamato promises, “It wasn’t real. Nothing’s going to happen to either of us.” He pressed their foreheads together. “Both of us are fine. It’s going to stay that way. I promise.”</p><p>Taichi releases a noise that sounds like air hissing through his teeth, before diving back in to kiss Yamato again. He tugs him closer, till their bodies are pressed together. Yamato’s hyper aware of Taichi’s hands continue to roam all over him, tracing every inch of skin as if checking Yamato for cuts, or scrapes, or bruises—any sign of damage. “I saw him hurt you,” he whispers, nuzzling at Yamato’s jaw. “He took you from me,” he murmurs, as his hand caresses Yamato’s hipbone. “I thought you were gone…” he says, before pressing his lips back to Yamato’s, fingers raking through his hair. “I can’t let anything happen to you…”</p><p>Yamato murmurs back assurances between kisses—“It wasn’t real,” and “I’m safe,” or “It’s all over,”—shifting closer to Taichi with every declaration. Taichi’s desperation doesn’t cease for a long while, and they both continue to seek refuge in each other, until they’re too enervated to resist the draw of sleep.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Yamato gets in the van the next day with considerable hesitation. There’s a significant part of him that feels he should call this whole thing off, despite Taichi’s objections. Despite his promises that he’s going to be okay and that he’s going to spend the whole time sitting on Koushiro’s couch, playing dumb video games and oversaturating himself on oolong tea. He’s so convincing, so Yamato forces a smile and agrees. Promises that he’s going to have fun and enjoy this and that he’ll live in the moment, all that bullshit. But once he’s in the van, headphones on and face turned to watch the city flicker by outside the window, he just feels uneasy.</p><p>For weeks, a sense of emptiness has creeped in and out of him, stilling when Taichi is near and eating at Yamato when he’s not. That sense of emptiness resurfaces the second they take the exit to leave Odaiba. It stays with him through their show that night, and the night following, and the next day when they have a day off to explore whatever town they’re in, and so on, relaxing only in the moments he manages to steal away to get Taichi on the phone. In those moments, Yamato can close his eyes and listen to Taichi ramble on, and then, and only then, the emptiness stills, and he thinks, <em>he’s here, he’s alive, he’s with me.</em> And then they hang up and the emptiness resurges, living just beneath the surface, as he goes about his days. Even as he stands on stage and experiences that high, that feeling of being alive, thriving on the sound of the music around him.</p><p>There are moments where it’s worse than others. On the sixth day of tour, he nearly drops his bass when there’s this sudden thrum of tension billowing inside of him, that then collapses into an eerie silence. It feels like something that usually beats alongside his own heart has disconnected. He can’t shake it either, walking around backstage feeling askew. Finally, he can’t take it any longer, excusing himself from the show preparations to find a quiet place to call Taichi. The phone rings—and it keeps ringing, echoing in Yamato’s ear until Taichi’s voicemail picks up: “You’ve got Taichi. Leave me a message if you feel like it, and I’ll return it if I do.”</p><p>The phone beeps. Yamato hangs up the phone without leaving a message, shutting the phone with an unsatisfying thud. He leans his forehead against the wall and closes his eyes, trying to concentrate, trying to—perhaps pointlessly—reach out with some sort sixth sense to search for Taichi, to feel where he is, and if he’s okay. He tries to picture him, sitting on Koushiro’s couch yelling at the animated figures on the screen, or out with Sora or Mimi and ordering way too much food, or on the field, running circles around Daisuke. If Yamato concentrates hard enough, he’ll find him, or so his theory says.</p><p>“Yamato,” a voice snaps at him, yanking him out of his meditation, or whatever he’s doing. And instead of finding Taichi, his eyes snap open and he turns to see Tomohiro standing there, frowning at him. “Forty-five minutes till we’re on. Shouldn’t you get changed?”</p><p>Yamato nods, pushing himself away from the wall. “Yeah. Got it.”</p><p>“Gonna be a good one tonight,” Tomohiro says, flashing Yamato a grin. He’s been delirious with enthusiasm this entire trip, a sentiment that Yamato has yet to fully catch.</p><p>“Definitely,” Yamato says, plastering a forced grin on his face, feeling no less uneasy than he did before.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Three notes for this chapter. </p><p>One, yes I know the chapter title is a ABBA song, but the Avantasia cover is excellent and I can very much picture Yamato's using his band to be able to sing this song, in this style, to Taichi. You should check it out: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUG2dq_kAWs"><i>Song Link</i></a></p><p>Two, I wrote a Christmas fic set in the same timeline as this fic, with Yamato and Taichi as 22-year old lovebirds post-Kizuna. I liked writing a future-fic for this timeline and might do more of these. Check it out (warning, there is explicit sexual content in this): <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28333680">all you need is love</a></p><p>Lastly, Happy New Year! Not sure how many of you are still out there, but if you are, thank you for sticking with me! And thanks to all those who leave comments regularly, or even sporadically, they mean the world to me! Please continue, I hope to inspire you all to leave me one one day. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Don't Wake the Lion (Part One)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can't believe it took me a month to update. Please accept this 10,000 word apology.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Eighteen: Don't Wake the Lion (Part One)</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>"Don't wake the lion</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><br/>
<em>There's a firework show tonight</em><br/>
<em>Everyone's been invited</em><br/>
<em>There's mud on faces</em><br/>
<em>With frightened white eyes</em><br/>
<em>And some won't make it</em><br/>
<em>Through the thunderous noise."</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>–<em>Don’t Wake The Lion (Too Old To Die Young), Magnum </em></strong>
</p>
<p> </p><p>He can’t get the image out of his dreams.</p><p>A figure. Illuminated in shades of scarlet and grey. A hand dropping out of the air. Gennai laughing, because they’re just out of Taichi’s reach.   </p><p>“Open the door!” Taichi cries in his dreams, beating his fists against the glass. </p><p>The chamber hums. A clock counts down. Red numbers flash in the pod. Through the glass there’s darkness, the soft glow of computer screens illuminates a solitary figure, white shirt caked in a slick red substance. Blood.</p><p>The scene plays, over and over again. A taunt living in the forefront of his mind: <em> you couldn’t protect Nishijima, and you can’t protect Yamato. You can’t protect any of them.  </em></p><p>He wakes up panting, near screaming: maybe this is just his life now, living with this anger seemingly burning him up. With all this static underlying his skin, threatening to overwhelm him at any moment. Barely ever sleeping, as it all hums too loudly inside of him. He can’t close his eyes without watching someone die, whether that be Nishijima, or Yamato, or one of the others. He can’t lie awake without thinking about Gennai, about where he is, or what he is, or what his next plans are. Or who he is coming for next.</p><p>So, on the sixth day that Yamato’s away, he’s filled with a sense of long-awaited sense of poise, when sees his phone flashing and opens it to see his thread with Koushiro highlighted: </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Koushiro (07:47): <strong>I found something.</strong></p>
</blockquote><p><em>Finally</em>, Taichi thinks. <em>Answers.</em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Just before ten o’clock, Taichi pushes open the door to Koushiro’s building, backpack slung over his shoulder; it’s filled with an oolong tea restock, as he owes his friend something for the troubles he’s going to. He climbs the stairs eagerly: one hand grasping the backpack strap, the other occupied with his phone, typing out a message to Yamato, checking in.</p><p>They’ve been doing that a lot lately. Checking in. Assuring Yamato that he’s okay, even if he’s not telling the entire truth. And Taichi needs to know Yamato’s okay—although he already knows that Yamato’s anxious about being away, even if Yamato won’t say it aloud, as, in a sense, he can feel it. But that’s why he’s doing this. That’s why he’s getting answers. To fix both of them.</p><p>“Hey,” Taichi greets, when the sliding door open. He still hasn’t looked up from his phone as he strides in, all impatient and ready to get down to business. “What did you find? Lay it on—”</p><p>He pauses abruptly, drawing up short at the door when he looks up from his phone to see, seated in Koushiro’s office, not only Koushiro, but also Sora. And Mimi. And Jou.</p><p>“What the fuck.” Taichi’s tone changes instantly as he turns on Koushiro. He can’t help the frustration that laces his voice. “Koushiro. What the hell are they doing here?”</p><p>Sora starts to speak, but Koushiro waves her quiet, meets Taichi’s eye, and states, simply: “Reinforcements.”</p><p>Taichi draws in a sharp breath. He throws down his backpack on an empty chair and strides across the room, ignoring the three Chosen that shouldn’t be there. “I said that I didn’t want to alarm anyone.”</p><p>“Too late,” he hears Jou mumble from the couch.</p><p>“No, you said,” Koushiro says, calmly, like he’s practiced for this moment, “That when we found something and we wanted to investigate further, we’d bring in some of the others.” Koushiro gestures to the other three with his hand, palm face up. His torso is squared up to Taichi, determined, although his shoulders are tense in that way he gets when he’s not entirely comfortable with the stand he’s taking. “Some of the others.”</p><p>“This is not what I meant,” Taichi grimaces, trying to keep his voice even. He can feel something flicker inside of him, and he’s unable to distinguish if its anxiety or anger.</p><p>“Well, it’s what I meant,” Koushiro clarifies, steadily.</p><p>“I—” Taichi bites off the word, gritting his teeth. He’s struggling to keep his tone steady, part of him wanting to yell at him. “Did you…”</p><p>Koushiro gets the message and shakes his head. “I only called these three. I didn’t involve any of the younger kids, and only called those who I knew were available. Five seemed like suitable numbers.”</p><p>Taichi hopes the relief he feels run through his body isn’t audible. Koushiro’s words help settle him slightly, but nevertheless, Taichi still crosses both arms firmly over his chest and continues to protest: “They shouldn’t come. They could get hurt.”</p><p>He hears Sora sigh from behind him. “Taichi,<em> you</em> could get hurt.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Koushiro says, with a hard nod. “We all know there’s risks every time we go to the Digital World. But there is—”</p><p>“This is my problem. My decision,” Taichi interrupts. He runs a hand all the way through his hair, from his forehead to the base, where he rubs at his neck. “This could be dangerous. Koushiro, do you really want to send Mimi and Jou and—</p><p>“Mimi can decide things for herself,” Mimi announces, loud and sarcastically. Sora echoes a similar sentiment. Jou nods, punctuating the girls’ comments.</p><p>Koushiro throws them a grateful look, before his face morphs to settle into a firm, determined line. His hand hovers over the keyboard of his computer. “I’m not opening the gate unless they come with us.”</p><p>Taichi frowns. He has every intention of keeping arguing, but before he can say anything more, he feels a hand land on his arm, turning slightly to find Sora standing at his elbow. “Taichi,” she says, in her softest, most comforting voice, “We just want to help.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Jou chimes in, from where he’s still perched on the side of the couch. “If what Koushiro says is correct and there’s a chance that”—he breaks off, clears his throat awkwardly—“well, that the… dark-Gennai is still out there, we should know.”</p><p>Koushiro meets Taichi’s eye; Koushiro’s are steady, a mix of pleading and defiance held in them. Taichi swallows hard, trying to push down the part of him that is rebelling against bringing along his friends. <em>The more people that come, the more people that can get hurt, the more people you might have to leave behind, </em>part of him argues, while another part cautions, <em>but, the more people that come, the better chance you have of never getting to that point. </em>He doesn’t know which part to listen to, but Koushiro holds the metaphorical key to the Digital World, so he probably doesn’t have much of a choice.</p><p>“Okay,” Taichi says, finally, taking a deep breath.</p><p>Koushiro nods, looking relieved. He bends over, starting to type at his computer. “I worked out a way to hold the port open on this computer only,” he tells them. Then, almost apologetically, “I’m still working out a more permanent solution, but this should work for today.”</p><p>Mimi claps her hands, skipping across the floor to stand at Koushiro’s shoulder and leaning against him. “I’m excited to see Palmon,” she adds, smiling. “We should have brought food for them.”</p><p>“It’s not a picnic, Mimi,” Jou grumbles, joining them at the computer. He frowns, pushing his glasses against the bridge of his nose. “This is serious. Potentially dangerous.”</p><p><em>Potentially really dangerous, </em>Taichi thinks, stomach sinking. The comment refuels his desire to protest, but then Koushiro hits a few keys on his keyboard, and there’s a force pulling at him, and his thoughts are swept up along with their surroundings.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Taichi blinks and the world is suddenly brighter. The five of them have landed in a heap on soft, long, grass. They’re in a forest. Around them, the Digital World seems to shimmer; all made up of lush greens, and vibrant blues, and luminous pinks and oranges and reds that scatter the sky.</p><p>“So, now what?” Mimi asks, brushing grass off her pants as she rises.</p><p>“Now?” Taichi glances at her briefly. “Now I find Gennai.”</p><p>“And where do we go to do that? What’s the plan?” Jou chimes in, from his place still sprawled out on the grass.</p><p>Taichi shrugs. “That is the plan.”</p><p>Jou gapes at him. “That’s not a plan!”</p><p>“<em>You </em>can go home if you don’t like it,” Taichi snaps, as that is, in fact, what he’d like them all to do.</p><p>“Shouldn’t we at least find our partners?” Sora asks, at the same time. She ignores Taichi, turning in the direction of Koushiro.</p><p>“Yes,” Koushiro says, laptop out and resting on one forearm as he types one-handed. “Tentomon is gathering them. He’ll be along shortly.” Koushiro looks up from his typing to where Taichi is already starting to walk the most obvious path. “Taichi, at least wait for Agumon,” he adds, sighing deeply. “And that’s the wrong way.”</p><p>Taichi pauses at the words, turning around slowly, hands balled into fists at his sides. Sora eyes him with a worried look, and he scowls darkly in response.</p><p>Within minutes, there’s a scrambling noise; the patter of feet and the flapping of wings making their way towards them. A flurry orange and red, and pink and purple, all scampering across green grass. Seconds later, Taichi has an armful of orange dinosaur, as Agumon and him clash together in a flurry of wild movements. A small smile forms on his face, despite everything. It hasn’t even been two weeks, but Taichi’s missed him.</p><p>“Taichi, I’ve missed you,” Agumon adds, echoing his thoughts aloud.</p><p>Happy to hear the sentiment returned, Taichi allows himself a brief moment of reprieve, burying his face in Agumon’s shoulder. He sighs deeply before he sets his partner down and turns to the rest of the group. “Shall we?” he says, gesturing to Koushiro and breaking up the group’s reunions.</p><p>“Yes,” Koushiro replies. He’s already focused, eyes scanning the laptop screen. Tentomon hovers at his shoulder, murmuring things to his partner, too low for Taichi to catch. “This way, I believe,” Koushiro adds, finally, pointing through to a thin opening in the trees.</p><p>Jou frowns. “<em>Through</em> the forest?” he protests, “But when Taichi fell into this place it was in a wide-open area. This just looks like overgrowth.”</p><p>“Koushiro, are you sure?” Mimi adds, looking similarly bewildered. Palmon scratches at her head.</p><p>“There’s not even a path…” Jou continues, still protesting even as Taichi pushes past him. He starts to make his way through the overgrowth, Agumon close at his heels. The location doesn’t make sense, but nothing about Gennai ever has—he trusts Koushiro, so he trusts it is this way.</p><p>“I know it doesn’t seem logical, Jou.” Koushiro’s still standing still, his voice getting farther away as Taichi pushes on, hitting the obstruction of tree branches not even a few feet in. “But this leads to the only location that appears to be underground and where I’ve seen some activity that looks like it could be Gennai.”</p><p>“Fine,” Jou grumbles. Behind him, Taichi hears the others starting to push through the branches.</p><p>There is no path to follow. It’s all overgrowth and, as such, they spend their time pushing back branches and stepping over roots. They make use of their digimon’s attacks, primarily Palmon’s vines, to clear a makeshift path in front of them. As they walk, Taichi can hear the sounds of branches smacking against skin, yelps as they slide in muddy parts, and grunts and protests as the forest grows thicker. It is hard work—and slow going—and it is not long before all of them are scratched up and covered in dirt.</p><p>They persist, though. Taichi leading the way, as Agumon singes holes in the overgrowth for them to duck through. Then, after trudging through for what feels like a long while, the forest finally clears, and they emerge onto a thin slice of a sheer, rocky cliff. Taichi and Agumon are first out of the overgrowth and the cliff emerges so suddenly, Taichi has to grab Agumon’s arm to keep him from stepping off.</p><p>Below them is nothing: the cliff dropping off and descending, as far as the eye can see. On the other side, the landscape expands into something familiar: a clearing of jagged rock, the colour of sandstone, with periodic drop-offs and ledges scattered across the clearing, no part of the ground seemingly whole.</p><p>“Is this where the fight was?” Sora wonders, leaning forward, peering downwards into the nothingness.</p><p>“But the forest,” Mimi says, shading her eyes from the sunny sky to look across the open landscape facing them, “It was farther back. We had to walk to it.”</p><p>“It grew that fast?” Palmon marvels, as she wraps a precautionary vine around Mimi’s leg. </p><p>“You know the Digital World is malleable, Palmon,” Tentomon chides her. He buzzes around them, hovering in the air as he lectures emphatically. “It’s quite possible it <em>did </em>grow that fast.”</p><p>Koushiro nods. He types a few lines on his laptop and a map pops up with two blinking lights. “We’re the top light,” Koushiro says, pointing as everyone gathers around, still half in the forest to keep back from the edge. “The second light is about hundred feet down and across from us. I believe that’s the safehouse.”</p><p>Taichi crouches next to Koushiro, who has dropped to one knee and placed his laptop on the ground in front of him.  “He made it grow,” Taichi mutters, peering over Koushiro’s shoulder at the blinking lights on the screen. “He wants to make it difficult to find. To make us hike through that.” Taichi gestures back to the overgrowth for emphasis, cognisant of all the scratches that have started to appear on his forearms, red and angry.</p><p>“Is that the only entrance?” Jou frowns as he looks around. “How the hell do we get down there?”</p><p>“It’s the only entrance I’ve found,” Koushiro replies, tucking his laptop back into his backpack. He stands, brandishing his digivice as he does. “And we fly. Kabuterimon can shuttle us down.”</p><p>“Birdramon too,” Sora reminds him. She takes out her own digivice. “It’ll be quicker.”</p><p>“Always grateful to get to my death quicker,” Jou mutters, wiping dirt off his forehead with the one clean edge of his shirt.</p><p>Taichi opens his mouth to remind Jou he’s in no way obligated to come with them, but Sora cuts him off with a light touch to his arm and a small smile before turning to her partner. “Ready Piyomon?” she asks, holding her digivice out in front of her.</p><p>“Yes!” Piyomon replies, enthusiastically, flapping in place above the gap. Instantly she’s surrounded in a bright, red glow and mere moments later, the pink bird is replaced with her fiery adult form. Sora hops on to one of the great bird’s feet, gesturing for Taichi to latch on to the other. After a quick look in Agumon’s direction and a nod in response from his own partner, Taichi grabs hold of Birdramon’s talon.</p><p>“Remember, it’s about hundred feet below us,” Koushiro tells them, “I’ll follow with Agumon.”</p><p>“See you soon!” Agumon replies cheerfully. Both he and Gomamon wave as Birdramon flaps her wings. Then Agumon and the others disappear from sight, only the shine of a purple light still in view as they begin to descend into the notch between the two cliffs.</p><p>Birdramon makes her way down slowly, so that Taichi and Sora can scan the side of the cliff for anything appearing to be an entrance or a gateway. They’ve hit the range that Koushiro had flagged when Sora shouts at Taichi, pointing cautiously: “Is that it?”</p><p>Taichi follows her finger with his eyes, spotting a shrouded overhang a few feet to their left, jagged and sharp. “Maybe? Let’s try it,” he calls back, and Birdramon swings to the left to bring them to shelf in the side of the cliff.</p><p>When they’re close enough, Taichi jumps off, landing on the shelf. Sora hesitates for only a second longer before joining him to examine the overhang they’re now standing on. Birdramon hovers in place to wait for their confirmation, taking off only when Sora gestures to her with a thumbs up.</p><p>It’s obviously the right place: the entrance to the cave is set back a few feet, initially large, but the passageway seems to get tighter the further back it goes, progressing at a slight decline. A sense of excitement or eagerness flares inside Taichi, as if he knows he’s teetering on the edge of something. He’s close to something. He can feel it.</p><p>That feeling drives him forward and he’s already taking a step into the passageway to investigate further, when Sora grabs his arm. “We need to wait,” she says, firmly. She gives him a once over, eyes searching him. “We have to give Birdramon and Kabuterimon a chance to get everyone down here.”</p><p>“I know,” Taichi replies tersely, even as he peers closer, trying to see down the passageway. He feels impatient. Hungry for what is before them. Down there are answers. Answers to explain what happened, and answers to enable him to keep everyone safe—To keep Yamato safe.</p><p>She levels him with a look that is a mix between sympathy and disapproval. “Taichi, I know this is important to you, but we need our friends. Our partners. We want to help you. You know that, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Taichi repeats, almost solemnly. He takes a step back and leaning against the wall, trying to give off the appearance of waiting patiently. “I know.”</p><p>“Good.” Sora smiles at him again, rubbing his arm affectionately.</p><p>Minutes later, Koushiro and Agumon hop off Kabuterimon’s back. Kabuterimon takes off as Agumon patters over to Taichi’s side, and Birdramon appears again, having returned with Mimi and Palmon. Once they’ve disembarked, a glow surrounds Birdramon and the bird shrinks, Piyomon tumbling into Sora’s arms.</p><p>“You guys are a lot heavier than you used to be!” Piyomon chirps, gleefully.</p><p>“Heeey,” Mimi snaps back, putting her hands on her hips and glaring down at the pink digimon, who instantly looks sheepish, squawking an apology. Sora, Mimi, and Palmon subsequently teeter off into laughter.</p><p>Taichi ignores their banter. Instead, he draws close to Koushiro, asking, “How far into the passageway do you think we have to go?”</p><p>“I’m not sure,” Koushiro admits, pulling out his laptop to show Taichi the screen again, as he waits at the edge of the overhang for his partner’s return. “It’s hard to tell, because there appears to be multiple routes, some of which may be obstructed in places.”</p><p>Taichi studies the screen, where Koushiro has created the beginnings of a rough map. He can discern their position based on the blinking dot, as well as several tunnels that appear to make its way back into the cliff, however the data is incomplete.</p><p>“This,” Koushiro says, pointing as he speaks, “Appears to be the most logical route. It’s the biggest, only collapsing near this centre pit here. These two passages seem to lead to the same place; however, it narrows significantly, albeit maybe with less obstruction. The others seem to veer off in completely different directions.”</p><p>“So, there was an explosion,” Taichi murmurs. A trickle of relief washes through him as he says those words: maybe, just maybe, he did have to leave.</p><p>Koushiro shrugs. “Quite possibly. Impossible to know for certain until we get down there.”</p><p>Taichi nods, turning his face to more clearly look Koushiro in the eyes. “Koushiro, I’ve never thanked you, but really…”</p><p>Koushiro shakes his head. “I haven’t done anything yet. This is all just theory.”</p><p>“Still.” Taichi reaches out and squeezing Koushiro’s forearm. Koushiro blushes, choosing to ignore the comment in favour of turning his attention back to his laptop, hitting a few sequences on the keys to send the map to his digivice. As he does, Kabuterimon appears again, unloading Gomamon and one queasy-looking Jou, and quickly devolves back into Tentomon.</p><p>“Jou is not a fan of flying,” Gomamon clarifies for everyone, as Jou stumbles onto the ledge.</p><p>“Gomamon—” Jou wheezes, glaring at his partner even as he struggles to catch his breath.</p><p>Gomamon claps him on the back with a flipper. “It’s okay, Jou, that’s why we swim!”</p><p>Mimi and Sora start giggling again, along with their partners, and Agumon gives an amused snort in response. The corners of Koushiro’s lips tug upwards in a smile as he hoists his backpack onto his shoulders, holding three flashlights in his hands, handing one to Taichi and one to Sora. Taichi doesn’t join in with the laughter, but he allows the moment of levity, despite already being focused on the task ahead of them. The passageway—and whatever is beyond that.  </p><p>“Alright, let’s go,” Taichi orders, when the giggling subsides. He gestures with the flashlight to the entrance and then starts to lead the way to enter the passageway, Agumon at his side, and Koushiro and Tentomon right on his heels to provide directions.</p><p>“Down there?” Mimi says, hesitantly, when she reaches the entrance and can see the dark passage before them. “Is it safe?”</p><p>Koushiro’s footsteps pause. “Hey,” Koushiro murmurs, so softly Taichi can barely hear him, even as he stops walking to wait for his navigator. Out of the corner of his eye, Taichi sees Koushiro lay a hand on Mimi’s arm. That tremor of anxiety runs through him again: a feeling that what he’s leading them into might be dangerous. That if another person doesn’t come back from this, it will, again, be his fault. “If you don’t want to come, that’s okay,” Koushiro adds, as if echoing Taichi’s thoughts aloud. “Nobody would blame you.”</p><p>“We could be the look-out,” Palmon adds.</p><p>“You’re going?” Mimi replies, looking back at Koushiro.</p><p>“Yes.” Koushiro nods sharply, and then gives her a small smile. “That’s where the signal is coming from. That’s where we have to go.”</p><p>Mimi nods back, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth as she does. Taichi sees a subtle movement, like she’s squeezing Koushiro’s hand. “Then Palmon and I are coming too.”</p><p>Koushiro looks like he’s going to protest, offer her another way out, and Taichi wishes he would, but the look on Mimi’s face is determined. Instead, Koushiro just hands her the flashlight he’s still holding and without another word, they both press on, following Taichi.</p><p>“You still didn’t answer if it’s safe,” Jou mutters, as he and Gomamon reluctantly bring up the rear, alongside Sora and Piyomon.</p><p>“It’s not,” Taichi responds dryly, as he turns to keep walking.</p><p>They haven’t walked far when the path splits in two. Until then, the passage has been quite wide: ample room for each of them to spread their arms to the sides to keep balance on the decline, however there are places where both Taichi and Jou have to duck their heads. Agumon grins up at Taichi in places where Taichi’s hair grazes the top of the passageway, raising his arms above his head in a teasing way. And even though every cell in his body is tense, Taichi still manages to playfully shove the digimon’s arms back to his sides.</p><p>“Which way?” Taichi asks Koushiro when they arrive at the split. He shines his flashlight down both passages, indicating their options.</p><p>Koushiro stares at his digivice. “Right leads to the passageway that is widest, less chance of crawling, but it’s collapsed right before the centre. We may need to dig. Left seems less obstructed, but narrow.”</p><p>“Then, whichever way is fastest,” Taichi states, but Koushiro glances back at Mimi, Jou, and Sora for their input.</p><p>“I don’t want to crawl,” Mimi whines, just as Jou says, “We’re screwed if we get ambushed in anything tighter than this.”</p><p>Sora nods. “Jou’s right. Between us and the digimon we can move rocks.”</p><p>“Surprise we haven’t already gotten ambushed,” Jou mutters under his breath. His eyes dart up, glancing around anxiously. “Oh. I’ve just jinxed us.”</p><p>Sora pats Jou’s shoulder reassuringly, but her own eyebrows are knitted together with worry and Taichi can tell she’s thinking the same thing. But he has to press on. He <em>has </em>to; everything in him needs to move forward.</p><p>“You can go back,” Taichi offers again, “Agumon and I can do this.”</p><p>“No,” Koushiro counters, “We’re going.”</p><p>The other’s responses are more restrained, but when Taichi continues walking there are eight pairs of footsteps following him and Agumon. He turns right and, true to Koushiro’s word, the passageway remains relatively spacious and the ground evens out, until they reach the collapsed portion.</p><p>“It’s behind this,” Koushiro murmurs, when he draws up beside Taichi, in front of the barrier.</p><p>Taichi nods. He tucks the flashlight into his belt loop, reaching to start removing rocks when Jou’s arm blocks him. “We can’t just blindly reach for rocks,” Jou says, sounded agitated, “What if it collapses? Then we all die down here.”</p><p>“We need to get through this,” Taichi hisses back. It comes out harsher than he intends, and Jou draws back instantly, his face clouding. “We need to be on the other side of this. We don’t have time to drag an entire construction crew down here, Jou.” Taichi clenches his fists at his side as desperation towers within him.</p><p>Sora steps between them. “Taichi,” she says softly, “There’s no rush. We can do this safely. Right, Koushiro?”</p><p>“Right, Sora,” Koushiro says, looking relieved, “Right. Let me do some analysis.”</p><p>He steps to the side, dropping onto the ground and pulling out his computer, Mimi, Tentomon and Palmon gather around him. Sora and Jou remain where they’re standing, both of them wearing strained looks.</p><p>“Taichi,” Sora begins. She pauses, pressing her lips together. “You don’t have to do this, you know. Nobody expects you to,” she clears her throat, “Come back here.”</p><p>“Got to do this,” Taichi mumbles back. He has to: there’s no other way to get rid of this feeling inside of him, the tremors of anger and anxiety.</p><p>“Okay,” she responds, giving him a doleful look, “But whatever is behind there is going to still be there in ten minutes, or thirty minutes, or however long it takes us to get there safely.” She takes a cautious step towards him, placing her hand on the crook of his elbow. “Okay? None of us are trying to keep you from figuring out where Gennai is. We’re here to help. We want to know too. You just need to settle—”</p><p>He cuts her off with a glare, wrenching his arm away before she can finish her sentence. She flinches, but lets him walk a few paces away, only Agumon following.</p><p>He’s been trying to settle for weeks. Trying to still the thrum of static underlying his skin. And now, the current that hums below the surface is desperately close to overwhelming him, to setting him aflame. And only what’s behind that wall of rocks will fix this.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It’s only thirty minutes before they’re able to safely construct a way through, but for Taichi it feels like an eternity. They can’t evolve their digimon in the passageway, so the effort consists of the digimon aiming their attacks at strategically placed rocks to help chip away at them, while the humans clear the remains to the side.</p><p>“Tedious,” Jou mutters, not too obviously in Taichi’s direction, when they’ve finished, “But safe.”</p><p>Taichi tries not to glower at him too much, instead giving Agumon a boost into the hole they’ve created and the two of them make their way through, stepping through the wall of rocks and ducking under a series of beams that obscure the entranceway.</p><p>When Taichi emerges, its immediately clear they’re in the right place. He can see a faint red glow, obscured by caved in elements of what used to be the laboratory. Everything’s askew. What was once the slick, simple computer laboratory is now a series of caved in metal beams, collapsed tables, and broken equipment. There’s glass all over the floor, and while a few remaining lights blink upwards at him, the room is eerily silent. Taichi tenses as he looks upon the scene: in fear or eagerness, he’s not sure.</p><p>“This is the place,” Agumon concludes, before Taichi can confirm it aloud. His partner shifts closer to him and Taichi nods, his throat suddenly dry.</p><p>He’s starting to feel the tension build againTaichi tries to settle himself by taking a deep breath and closing his eyes briefly, only to snap them open right away. The images of that day are still seared onto his eyelids: shadows of the faces trapped in the pods; a clock counting down; the soft glow of computers illuminating Nishijima’s dying face. Nishijima’s words, overlayed and juxtaposed with Gennai’s crazed laughter. And now he’s leading four of his friends back to that.</p><p>Back here.</p><p>He’s yanked out of his thoughts when a hand touches his elbow. He turns to see Sora gazing up at him. “Taichi,” she murmurs, “Is this where…” She trails off, but he knows what she’s getting at and he nods tersely, jerking his chin towards the back of the room, without truly looking in that direction. Her gaze follows and she looks on sadly for a moment, before turning to him, poised to add something else, when the noise of the others clambering through interrupts them.</p><p>“What the hell?” Jou says, as he ducks under a caved in beam, entering the room, “What the hell is this place?”</p><p>Mimi steps through after Jou. “It’s like the computer lab at school,” Mimi marvels, looking upwards, “Except… creepier.”</p><p>“Way creepier,” Palmon agrees, as she appears.</p><p>The five of them have emerged in the corner between the wall that used to host the blinking computer towers and the wall where the pods were lined up. It’s the only real accessible part of the room, likely protected in some way by the panes of glass that used to separate it from the rest of the laboratory, which now lay shattered on the floor. It’s an obstacle course to access the rest of the room. For that reason, the others move in slowly, fanning out to access what little parts of the room they can, clearly looking to ensure they’re alone. Koushiro peering at the pieces of tech that have fallen to the ground, while Jou’s eyes have been drawn to a different location.</p><p>“There must be room for a dozen pods,” Jou says, in awe, staring at the wall where all the pods used to be settled. The wall is now empty, save for one that has been knocked to the floor and covered in dust and dirt, a beam splayed mostly across it. There’s glass next to it, the remaining pod having been punctured by falling debris.</p><p>“Just six,” Taichi replies, morosely, from his spot just behind Jou, where he’s seemingly glued to the ground, the others having moved in around him. His heart is racing and he’s desperately avoiding looking towards a particular place in the room.</p><p>Steeling himself, Taichi takes a step towards the remaining pod, glass crunching under his sneaker. His hand reaches out on its own accord to wipe away the dirt. As he brushes his palm over the glass, it crumbles beneath the pressure, raining down to the bed of the pod.</p><p>“Careful,” Sora murmurs, drawing up beside him. Taichi nods, applying less pressure this time as he wipes the glass again to clear a viewing pane.</p><p>“Is it him?” Koushiro asks.</p><p>“It’s him,” Taichi replies, grimacing as he shines the flashlight down on face of Gennai.</p><p>Sora peers over his right shoulder. “He’s old again,” she clarifies for the group, looking confused. “Why is he old again?”</p><p>“Why is he still here?” Taichi muses, staring down at the body in the pod. Gennai’s form is still, eyes closed; there’s no sign that he can hear them or that he’s recognized that his surroundings have caved in on him. “Why didn’t he get sent somewhere with the rest of us?”</p><p>He’s not expecting an answer, and nobody gives him one.</p><p>Sora continues to look puzzled, staring down at Gennai’s form. “The wires,” Sora says, after a few minutes, pointing to the silver and black cords that are attached to Gennai’s body and that disappear into the sides of the pod. “What are the wires for?”</p><p>Koushiro draws closer, taking up residence on Taichi’s other side. He peers through the few clear parts of the glass, taking a closer look, trying to look past the mostly obstructed glass. “What wires?”</p><p>“Up here.” Sora draws a line in the dust with her finger to identify them. “They come from the back of the pod and attach—at least to his chest, I think?”</p><p>“Jou, help me lift this beam,” Taichi instructs. The older boy looks hesitant, so Taichi adds, a bit more fervently: “So we can all see.” Sora moves away, and reluctantly, Jou takes a few steps forward to help Taichi to hoist the beam off the pod. What appears to be glass and small rocks fall from the ceiling as they move the beam, setting it down softly on the ground. Jou’s face only relaxes a few seconds later, once it’s clear nothing’s going to immediately cave in on them.</p><p>Once the beam is removed, the five of them and Tentomon gather around the pod, each staring down at the seemingly lifeless form of Gennai. It’s almost certainly the original Gennai; the old one that greeted them during their first adventure, down to the mustache and single, small, ponytail. Taichi would almost think that he was sleeping, except that he looks ghastly: skin greying, lips white, wrinkles even more profound, and covered with dusts and shards of glass from the wreckage in the room. And then, attached to veins in his neck, his chest, his forearms are wires of various sizes, leading from Gennai’s body to the sides and top of the pod.</p><p>“Taichi, didn’t you say something about life-support?” Koushiro asks, after a few minutes of studying the wires. He’s moved around to the other side, facing Taichi now, leaning over the pod, hand extended through a hole in the glass so he can press the thick wire between two of his fingers.</p><p>Taichi nods. “Gennai said—the other one—that he’d ended the life support flowing to the pods… That’s why I had to… Go.”</p><p>“All the pods? So, Miyako? And the others?” Mimi asks, quietly. Her face pales as Taichi nods again. Sora squeezes Mimi’s shoulder, her own face drawn tight.</p><p>The rest of them are silent for a moment, before Koushiro starts moving again, bending awkwardly to try to see behind the pod. “Tentomon,” he asks, pointing upwards at the wires that seemingly extend from the back of the pod towards the lowest beam of the ceiling, “Can you see if those wires lead anywhere?”</p><p>Tentomon wings cut through the air as he takes off, navigating through the tight space above them created by the caved in ceiling. He disappears behind a slate of collapsed metal for a moment, before coming back out and hovering beside Koushiro. “A few are frayed. But for the most part, it seems to be connected, Koushiro,” Tentomon replies, robotic as always.</p><p>“So, there may be power,” Koushiro muses, sliding his backpack off his shoulder. His laptop, as well as long cord are out in an instant, and Koushiro quickly connects one side of the cord to his computer, groping at the back of the pod for a control panel.</p><p>“Wait a second—” Jou says, suddenly. He looks up from where he’s studying the wires connected to Gennai’s body, right as Koushiro slides the cord into place on the panel on the back of the pod.</p><p>For a second, both the pod and Koushiro’s laptop seemingly come to life, humming with electricity, and for a moment Taichi feels hopeful. Then, just a quick as it booted up, Koushiro’s laptop short-circuits, the screen flickering grey and then fading to black.</p><p>The pod though, keeps humming. Alive, once again.</p><p>“Interesting,” Koushiro surmises, once they’ve all met each other’s eyes to exchange confused looks. “You were saying, Jou?”</p><p>“I was saying,” Jou starts, through gritted teeth. He glares at Taichi and Koushiro. “Damnit, if you two weren’t in such a damn hurry today. Does this mean we can’t get back? Your laptop opens the portal!”</p><p>Taichi feels a flare of irritation course through him. He tenses, as if ready to pounce. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Agumon turn to face the group, attention drawn away from his lookout position in response to Taichi’s spiking emotions. “If the urgency bothers you—"</p><p>“It does,” Jou interrupts, glaring.</p><p>“Jou. Taichi,” Sora says, laying a hand on Taichi’s shoulder. Taichi clenches his teeth as he closes his mouth; simultaneously, Jou rolls his shoulders back and shakes his head.</p><p>“I have a backup battery, Jou,” Koushiro replies, calmly. “We can get back.”</p><p>“Koushiro is always prepared,” Tentomon adds.</p><p>“What were you going to tell us, Jou?” Gomamon prods, gently. He taps Jou’s leg with a flipper and smiles up at his partner.</p><p>“I was going to say,” Jou begins again, a modicum calmer, although he’s still eyeing Taichi, as if waiting for Taichi to pounce again, “These wires are not solely providing support to the body. These wires”—he points at the ones that are silver—“appear to be taking something from the body.”</p><p>“What do you mean taking something?” Gomamon asks, before anyone else can jump in.</p><p>The illusion of having a conversation with only his partner seems to level Jou out somewhat, the intensity disappearing from his voice. “Like the wires aren’t designed to just keep the occupant of the pod stable…” he trails off, gesturing to the pod and sighing. “At a hospital, for instance, the primary purpose of the machines would be to stabilize a person by replacing the function of the person’s lungs—including removing carbon dioxide—but other, parts of the machine are designed to remove things the person doesn’t need, such as, um, excrements.”</p><p>“Ew,” Mimi says, wrinkling her nose.</p><p>Koushiro follows Jou’s gaze to the silver wires. “Energy.”</p><p>Jou shrugs a shoulder, mouth forming a silent ‘yes’, even though no sound comes out.</p><p>Sora’s mouth drops open as well, both shock and pain clipping her voice. “You mean to say the machine is <em>stealing </em>the occupant’s energy?” </p><p>“Interesting,” Koushiro murmurs. There’s a pensive crease between his brows as he stares at the pod.</p><p>When Koushiro doesn’t continue, Tentomon picks up the thread for his partner, explaining, “That would explain why your computer short-circuited, Koushiro. It literally zapped the energy.”</p><p>Koushiro looks over to Taichi, who shrugs. “I don’t know how it works,” Taichi admits, “I wasn’t ever hooked up to it, just Gennai and,” he pauses, swallows hard, dragging the anger back down alongside his saliva, “the younger kids.”</p><p>“You mean to say the pods were <em>stealing </em>energy from the younger kids?” Mimi exclaims. “For what reason? How could someone do that?”</p><p>“How indeed,” Koushiro murmurs, missing the exact connotation of Mimi’s outrage, “All beings are made up of a form of energy—” he looks up to meet an angry look on Mimi’s face. She purses her lips, crossing and uncrossing her arms over and over again.</p><p>“It’s just a theory,” Jou says, meekly, staring at Mimi and Sora, both wearing looks mixed of outrage and worry. He runs his hand through his hair. “I’m not the genius here, I’m just hypothesizing.”</p><p>“It’s all theory, Jou,” Gomamon says, supportively. “Koushiro theorizes all the time.”</p><p>“And it’s a good theory,” Koushiro adds. He runs a finger from his right hand over his chin thoughtfully. “I just need a way to prove it.” He starts groping around the pod again.</p><p>“Koushiro,” Mimi says, with an edge to her voice, “Let’s just get out of here. This place is creepy.”</p><p>“Just give me a moment, Mimi,” Koushiro says, continuing to poke at wires. He’s interested now, completely immersed in the puzzle in front of him; muttering to himself before waving Jou closer, the two of them continue to debate amongst themselves.</p><p>Taichi watches them. This whole place makes him feel on edge and the extra puzzle does nothing to settle the questions that are turning in his head. That make him sweat. That make his blood boil with anger. He didn’t come here for more puzzles or more games, he came here for answers. He wants answers, and that <em>thing </em>in the pod—whether it be the ‘real’ Gennai or the ‘dark’ one, or whatever, has answers.</p><p>And he needs them.</p><p>He can’t protect people without them. He’s led his friends down here on their own accord this time, but he can’t be certain what next time will bring. Or when next time will be. How quickly, it’ll arrive. And when it does, whether the next time will have him here again, watching someone else die in the corner of the corner of the room he can’t let his gaze settle on. </p><p>“Wake him up,” Taichi states, finally, interrupting Jou and Koushiro’s back and forth.</p><p>“What?” Jou says, turning to face Taichi. The others’ heads also snap to look at him, eight pairs of bewildered eyes settling on him.</p><p>“Wake him up,” Taichi repeats, more firmly this time, “He has answers. We need answers. We’re only going to get them from one place.” He gestures at the seemingly hibernating body in front of him.</p><p>“Even if we could wake him up,” Jou retorts, “His vital signs according to this panel”—he gestures to the one part of the pod that is blinking blearily, showing an array of faintly lit stats— “are terrible. He’s <em>barely</em> alive, if these are correct.”</p><p>“Do you think they’re correct?” Taichi asks Koushiro.</p><p>“Maybe,” Koushiro sighs. “I don’t know, Taichi. I need more time.”</p><p>“Taichi, a human being with these vital signs would need significant medical help,” Jou protests, “Blood transfusions. Assistance breathing.” He waves his arm at the pod. “<em>Life </em>support.”</p><p>“Try.”</p><p>“Taichi,” Jou tries again, pointing to one of the weak lights, “If this stat is correct, his energy levels are so depleted, he’s inches from keeling over—”</p><p>“We don’t even know if this Gennai, if he is original Gennai, will know anything about the other dark-Gennai, Taichi,” Koushiro argues at the same time, “It’s a dangerous gamble—"</p><p>Jou continues, “—Without the machine, he’s dead. He might not have enough energy to exist on his own. No wonder he’s old.”</p><p>“Then we fix that,” Taichi replies, interrupting them both. His voice is remarkably steady, despite the wave of tension coursing through him like an electric shock. “Give him energy.” He takes a step forward. “If the machine can take it out, we can put it back in.”</p><p>Koushiro draws in a breath between his teeth. “Energy from where?” he asks, cautiously, albeit not incuriously.</p><p>“One of us,” Taichi replies, as if it’s obvious. “Me.”</p><p>Jou pales, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Taichi, even if we knew how these wires work, it’s likely not as simple as hooking one of us up to him. And that’s presupposing we all would even agree to that!”</p><p>Koushiro eyes have widened considerably, as he nods along with Jou’s argument. “You’re not <em>digital</em>, Taichi. The odds of that working with Gennai, a digital entity, are near impossible.”</p><p>“He has answers, damnit,” Taichi snaps, voice rising in volume. “We need to wake him up. If there’s a chance, then do it.”</p><p>“No,” all four Chosen state firmly at the same time. They all stare at Taichi, incredulous.</p><p>“I can’t believe you’re even suggesting that. Have you lost your mind?” Jou adds, sputtering his words.</p><p>“Fuck you, Jou,” Taichi says, fists clenched, “I—we need answers. This is a way.”</p><p>Koushiro shakes his head. “Not like that. Taichi, just give me some time.” Koushiro’s hands are flat on the leftover glass parts of the pod, as he pleads the pressure increases and tiny bits of glass break off. “Let me run tests. This is already a lot more information than we had this morning. I can figure this out.”</p><p>“We can’t just waste time like that!” Taichi retorts. His voice sounds desperate to him, and a tiny bit of him wonders if it does to the others. “We don’t know what he’s planning, or when, and we need answers so someone else doesn’t di—”</p><p>“I’ll do it,” a voice from behind Taichi says. Taichi turns slowly, everyone else’s gazes dropping at the same time. “I’m digital,” Agumon continues.</p><p>Taichi’s eyes widen. “No way,” he counters, looking down at his partner and shaking his head. His heart feels like it’s stilled; died in his chest for a moment at Agumon’s words.</p><p>“You said we need answers, Taichi,” Agumon protests, giant eyes gazing back up at Taichi. “I’ll do it. I want to help you this time.”</p><p>“Agumon,” Taichi starts, shaking his head again. <em>No way, </em>his entire being howls. There’s no way he’s allowing that to happen, there’s no way he’s losing his partner, or destroying another digimon, or hurting anyone else.</p><p>Agumon eyes flash, as he continues to protest. “But Taichi—”</p><p>“Nobody is doing this,” Sora interrupts, firmly, before either Taichi or Agumon can say anything further. “Taichi, come here.” Sora tugs him away from the pod. Agumon and Piyomon following their partners, Agumon still protesting until Sora throws the digimon a look to silence him. She turns the corner, leading them slightly down the corridor where the computer parts lie in disarray. She takes Taichi’s hands in each of hers, her thumbs running softly over the tops of his own. “Just let Koushiro and Jou take a look right now, okay?”</p><p>“Sora, this is important,” Taichi argues. He starts to pull his hands away, but hers only grasp his tighter, continuing to run her thumbs soothingly over his.</p><p>“I know, Taichi,” Sora replies, “But there’s a better way. A way where none of us get hurt, okay? Not even you.”</p><p>“But—” he starts, but Sora shakes her head and his mouth snaps shut.</p><p>“Koushiro will figure out a way,” Sora tells him, “As he said, this is more data that we had this morning. We’ve figured out so much already. We don’t need any of us doing anything rash, okay?”</p><p>Sora smiles at him and he tries to return it. He really des, but they’ve taken a step further into the room, standing atop of broken computer parts, and she’s positioned him facing away from the row of pods. Where Sora has pulled him is right between the wall of flashing lights from the servers and the island where of computers, so, he can’t help when his eyes are drawn away from her face and in another direction.</p><p>To the other side of the room. To the computer and chair. To where Nishijima sat.</p><p>To where Nishijima died.</p><p>Maybe his hands tighten around hers, in response to the anxiety that he can feel building in his chest, or maybe he’s let go. He can faintly hear Sora saying his name in his peripheral, but his body is moving, being propelled almost mindlessly a few steps, stretching forward over the piles of debris to look around the large caved in desk that lies diagonally across the room.</p><p>He closes his eyes as he inches forward the last little bit, dragging his sneakers through debris and ducking under another caved in beam. He’s not sure he wants to see, but at the same time, something inside him needs to know. Needs confirmation. Needs to see what he’s done.</p><p>But when he turns the corner and opens his eyes, preparing for the worst, there’s… nothing.</p><p>Just debris, piles of rocks, and caved in equipment.</p><p>The weak sound he emits is painful even as it crosses his lips. He drops to his knees and he knows he’s shaking. It must startle Sora as he hears her step forward quickly, dropping to the ground beside him and grabbing both his shoulders.  </p><p>“Taichi?” Sora asks, her voice near a whisper. Her face is inches from his, her knuckles near white as they grip him. The world feels like it’s dropping out from under him, the scorching hot anger seeping through him. “What is it?” she asks again, her words barely reaching him.</p><p>“Taichi?” Agumon says, big eyes blinking, blurry in Taichi’s vision. The digimon reaches out, claw landing on Taichi’s arm. The gesture is startling, heavy on his skin.</p><p>It takes him a few moments to reply to them, but he finally gasps out: “I don’t see him.”</p><p>Sora’s grasp tightens around his shoulders. “Taichi, there’s so much damage,” she pauses, and he can hear her clear her throat, “He might be buried.”</p><p>Taichi can’t help the shudder that rips through his body. “I’ll look,” Taichi says, starting to push up his feet.</p><p>Sora says something else, but it’s lost to his thrumming that’s steadily gotten louder in his head. It’s been building all day, but this—this is it’s tipping point. He can feel Sora tighten her grip on his upper body in an attempt hold him back, but he’s already pressing up off his knees, rebelling against her grasp.</p><p>His movement is hurried and inelegant, and as Taichi tries to stand, debris crunches under his feet. The room trembles, seemingly swaying under his impetuous action. The beams on either side of them slide to the ground, cutting off their paths with a loud crash.</p><p>As the beams hit the ground, Sora screams.</p><p>Her arms encircle him, pulling him into her with a sudden force that sends them both lurching. Their partners both shout their names; Agumon and Piyomon throwing themselves into Taichi and Sora as the dust around them starts to rise.</p><p>“Taichi!” Sora cries. Her arms constrict around Taichi’s chest, pulling him further against her. He must stir under her grasp as she flinches, burying her face in his hair as she says, sternly, “No. Taichi. Please, stay still.”</p><p>Her grip around him is ferocious, unrelenting. He stops rebelling against it, allowing her arms to settle around him.  “Are you okay?” he coughs, dust still rising around them.</p><p>Sora nods against his hair. She’s breathing heavy onto his neck, something wet falling against his skin. Taichi turns his head from side to side, assessing the small area the four of them now inhabit, the room further collapsed around them.</p><p>There’s a scurrying noise from back the way they came from. “Are you two, okay?” Jou yells, voice wafting in from the other side of the beam, drawn slightly closer at the sound of the crash.</p><p>“Yeah,” Taichi calls back, the dust starting to settle around them.  </p><p>“We’ll get you out!” Jou yells again. “Don’t move!”</p><p>Taichi sits back, letting Sora hold herself tight against his back. The fallen beam has further blocked Taichi’s view of where, but he continues to stare, hoping to spot something in the dim light. Something to prove there’s something left of <em>him</em>. Something to thank, something to say goodbye to. But nothing appears and the tension inside of him is ravenous.</p><p>For a moment, all is silent, and the pounding of his heart is all Taichi can hear.</p><p>Then, a voice breaks through, one he knows from his dreams.</p><p>
  <em>“What did I tell you about staring into the abyss?”</em>
</p><p>Taichi blinks heavily, thinking for a second he’s been knocked out and he’s dreaming. Or that the visions seared on his eyelids have come to life. But no, there, on the other side of the beam, stands the villain of his nightmares, exactly how he remembers him: young, eyes-wild, and laughing manically.</p><p>“You,” Taichi growls, staring at the familiar face standing in front of him.</p><p>The Gennai in front of him laughs. A grin splits his face, teeth gleaning in the dim light. “I didn’t think we’d play again so soon.” </p><p>Taichi tenses, pressing up into a crouch, legs poised to spring at any moment. Beside him, Agumon turns, head dipping slightly as the dinosaur bares his teeth. Sora’s hands drop to his sides of his shirt, but she doesn’t let go, instead wrapping the fabric in her fists.</p><p>“Unfortunately,” this Gennai smirks, “I once again can’t stay.”</p><p>He laughs again and then he’s on the move, footsteps heavy even as he darts through the wreckage, looking over his shoulder at Taichi as he skips. Their eyes meet, and behind this Gennai’s eyes, there’s a taunt: <em>come get me this time. </em></p><p>Taichi bites. He’s on his feet a second later, the fabric of his shirt tearing as its wrenched out of Sora’s hands. Taichi vaguely processes Sora yelling at him as he ducks under the beam in front of them and precariously makes his way through the wreckage, pursuing Gennai. The room shakes as he makes his way across it, more dust and debris falling from the ceiling.</p><p>Behind him, there’s a crash, followed by far-off scream, and some yelling. He can hear his name being shouted again, the voice growing in intensity, seemingly keeping pace with him. Gennai ducks behind a corner, eyes glinting as he turns. Taichi pursues, turning the corner seconds after, instinctually aware that Agumon is right on his heels.</p><p>When he turns the corner, Gennai is standing facing him. “Nice playing with you, again, Yagami,” he laughs, tossing a four-pointed pink star over his shoulder. Then, he spreads his arms and steps backwards, falling through the distorted portal that has appeared behind him.</p><p>Gennai’s laugh echoes from the portal even after he disappears. Taichi stares at the open portal, heart pounding in his chest. His body feels like it’s burning, that deep-seated, primal, scorching-hot anger tearing through him.</p><p>He jumps.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They’re still in the Digital World.</p><p>He’s not underground anymore though, the landscape having morphed back into that clearing of jagged rock, the colour of sandstone. He’s standing on one of the ledges, a long stretch of it jetting out both in front and behind him. About five feet on either side of him is a drop-off, one of the periodic ledges they saw before, plunging down into nothingness. In the distance, several ledges over, is the forest that they originally came through and directly in front of him leads to a canyon, a slim opening between raised parts of the rock, jetting upwards into the sky.</p><p>He’s not alone either. Agumon is at his side, and when he turns his head slightly, he finds Sora and Piyomon behind him. Sora looks shaken, breathing heavy and looking around erratically. Taichi skims the landscape, spotting the figure that haunts his dreams a few paces in front of them, dashing down the landing they’re on and heading for the canyon.</p><p>“Taichi!” Sora shouts, as he starts to move. She reaches out her hands, even though he’s too far from her to grab. “Taichi, stop!”</p><p>Taichi grits his teeth as he pivots towards her. “He’s getting away, Sora!”</p><p>“The others!” She points at the forest, hand jetting out with urgency. There’s an edge to her voice, a plea, even though she’s shouting at him. Next to her, Piyomon flaps her wings, spinning in a circle.</p><p>Agitated, Taichi shakes his head as he takes another step forward, moving based on instinct now. “They’re with Koushiro. He’ll get them out. They’ll be fine!”</p><p>“Taichi,” she yells, “The room was shaking! They might be stuck!”</p><p>“You get them!” Taichi shouts back. His head swivels, watching Gennai bound further across the landscape. “I—Sora, I have to!”</p><p>Her face contorts, mouth gaping as she prepares to say something else, but he doesn’t wait for her to say anything more. He’s already turning, running after his nightmare. He hears an exasperated cry, and then the pounding of footsteps echoing behind him.</p><p>Taichi makes it to the edge of the canyon quickly. He feels like he should be gaining, however when he turns the corner, Gennai’s nowhere to been seen. Before him is just the passageway of the canyon, comprising a winding path obstructed by boulders in places and shaded by the raised rocks on either side. Taichi’s slows down at the entrance, silencing the sound of his sneakers on the rocks and listens. Agumon pulls up at his side a few seconds later and sniffs the air, muzzle swiveling in the air.</p><p>“Taichi!” Sora voice is hoarse as she catches up. She grabs his elbow to focus his attention on her. “Taichi, we have to go back for them.”</p><p>“They’ll get out,” he replies, trying to exude confidence. “He’s here, Sora. I’m so close.”</p><p>Agumon sniffs again, catching something on the wind. The digimon’s eyes flash and he starts forward, Taichi following eagerly. Every step forward is fueled by that intensity that’s been humming beneath his skin, finally having found its purpose in propelling him forward. The two of them walk a few feet more, before Agumon pauses just before a bend in the passageway. He shakes his head, sniffing again.</p><p>Taichi keeps walking, following the path, every neuron inside of him firing. He can barely hear anything except the thrumming of the static that has built up inside of him, his mind a fog of intensity. He turns, following the bend, and as he does there’s a crackling sound as a rock tumbles down the raised side of the canyon heading straight for him.</p><p>A bright orange light erupts from the ground. Then, there’s a thunderous sound as Greymon’s gigantic horns split the rock. It shatters to the ground in millions of pieces around them. Greymon growls, and Taichi looks up from the shadow of his now towering partner, bent over Taichi to protect him.</p><p>“Thanks,” Taichi manages to breathe, scanning the cliffs above them. Above them, there’s a figure skirting across a ledge, hiding behind a series of boulders that sit upon the same ledge. “There!” Taichi says, his voice halfway between an excited whisper and an angry shout, deep and rumbling like the rocks that were just tumbling.</p><p>Greymon’s eyes narrow as his head tilts backwards. His body then lurches forward as a flaming ball of fire discharges from his mouth. The fire catapults towards where Gennai is running across the edge and when it connects with the rock, the ledge explodes into ash. Gennai falls, sliding down the face of the rock.</p><p>He’s laughing manically when he lands, bounding out of his slide as if he’d just exited a carnival ride. “That was fun!” Gennai exclaims, clapping his hands and grinning. Greymon growls again, his claws scraping the ground. Gennai’s eyes widen at the sound. “Playing with you bunch is always so fun! But this two-on-one seems very unfair.” Gennai grins again, taking a step back as he prepares to run again. “Good thing I have friends too.”</p><p>Gennai snaps his fingers and the sky darkens; large, ominous storm clouds rolling in. A long and winding shadow snakes over the newly darkened sky, seemingly swimming through the clouds that obscure it from their view. The sky shakes, and then thunderbolts come striking down, hurling towards them with incredibly accuracy.</p><p>Taichi ducks, covering his head with his arms as Greymon leans back over him, a thunderbolt hitting the digimon with full force. Greymon roars, his claws scraping on the ground as he tries keep his balance. Red light streams into the sky as the thunderbolts hit, and a bird screams, followed by a large gust of hot air as Birdramon takes off, pursuing the shadow still snaking through the clouds. Taichi strains his eyes, trying to home in on whatever enemy Birdramon is pursuing, but the cloud cover camouflages the digimon.</p><p>“Gennai. He’s getting away,” Greymon growls, drawing Taichi’s attention back to the ground. Taichi’s head swivels to the spot where Gennai was standing—now vacated as the wicked version of their childhood guardian has used the chaos as a distraction to resume running down the path. Greymon’s eyes flash atypically as he fires off another attack in Gennai’s direction, the blaze nipping at his heels.</p><p>Another thunderbolt erupts in the sky. It’s followed by an agonizing sound and Taichi looks up briefly to see Birdramon plummeting back to the ground. Sora screams for her partner, helplessly.</p><p>Taichi grits his teeth and starts running. Pursuing.</p><p>He scrambles away from the sound to chase Gennai through the rocks. He can hear his own partner’s lumbering footsteps behind him. Gennai starts to climb the steep rockslide and Greymon spits another fireball, hurling it towards Gennai to block him from climbing. Midway, the fireball is joined by a green shell of energy, crisp and bright, the colour of petals—a tiny pink fairy zipping through the air above them.</p><p>Taichi keeps running, as his blood pulses. He keeps pursuing, as his skin vibrates. He knows he’s gaining on Gennai, just as the anger bubbles over.</p><p>He’s so close.</p><p>He’s about to lunge when another thunderbolt strikes, controlled by whatever anonymous ally Gennai has in the sky. The rocks in front of him explodes and Taichi’s hands fly up to protect his face and he somersaults to the ground.</p><p>“Taichi!” Greymon roars, and a dark, blood orange light engulfs him.</p><p>When the light fades, Taichi looks up from where he’s sprawled on the ground, expecting to see MetalGreymon. Instead, he looks up and sees an imposing figure of bones and cavities standing over him, claws outstretched, and teeth bared. Taichi’s eyes widen, a tiny bit of anger inside of him giving way to fear.</p><p>SkullGreymon snarls and lumbers forward, bones creaking as he does. Taichi shuffles backwards on the dirt as the digimon moves in his direction, pressing himself against the rocks. Lilymon flies lower, placing herself between Taichi and SkullGreymon, who swats her out of the way with a claw, sending her shooting through the sky. At the same time, a ball of electricity hits SkulGreymon, MegaKabuterimon appearing above them. The attack bounces off the digimon’s back, and SkullGreymon roars in the direction of the other Chosen digimon.</p><p>Gennai laughs from where he’s standing, a few feet up the pathway. “You can’t even control him!” Gennai taunts, gleefully, “How absolutely pathetically delightful—"</p><p>SkullGreymon snarls again, and, as if punctuating the sound, the orange missile on his back launches, firing towards Gennai, cutting off his crazed monologue. SkullGreymon’s head then turns slowly, one tiny beady eye meeting Taichi’s, and then his skull moves, in one long, slow nod.</p><p>Taichi stares at the digimon. His partner. They’ve met before but not like this, not with this level of recognition, or understanding, or willingness. SkullGreymon growls, thrashing his head in Taichi’s direction. Slowly—carefully—Taichi stands, returning the look, his jaw clenching as he manages to say: “Destroy him.”</p><p>The skeleton-digimon pivots, bones shaking as he lets out a terrifying, strident, call. His mouth opens, releasing a purple haze that jets out towards Gennai.</p><p>Gennai shrieks, a mad mix between a laugh and a scream, as he jumps backwards, another four-pointed pink star falling from his hand and a portal opens. The sky crackles again, thunderbolts raining down, two of which hit SkullGreymon, the others bound for other targets. Gennai wiggles his fingers at Taichi, before falling back into the portal, with a final delirious laugh and a drawn out: “Bye for now.”</p><p>And then he’s gone. Above them, the thunder clouds crackle once more and then disappear, the snaking shadow gone with them.</p><p>Taichi clenches hit teeth harder, frustration washing over him as he stares at the space Gennai just vacated. His body is shaking, overwhelmed from coming this close.</p><p>SkullGreymon releases a long pitiful sound, as he lumbers towards Taichi, bones creaking as his feet move, just inches off the ground. The skeleton bends, its glowing eyes seemingly blinking heavily as the digimon’s spine curves. Something in Taichi keeps his feet planted firmly in his spot and his hand moves of its own accord, reaching up towards the giant skull swooping towards him. An eerie silence settles in the canyon, as SkullGreymon angles his head to touch tip of its skull to Taichi’s hand. For a moment, Taichi can feel the smooth, cool ridge of the bone beneath his fingertips; it almost seems to be vibrating under his touch, like it’s imitating the static that Taichi’s felt within him for weeks.</p><p>Then, a glow emanates from where SkullGreymon is standing and a second later, Koromon appears at Taichi’s feet.</p><p>“Taichi…” Koromon whispers, voice hoarse and straining, “I’m sorry…”</p><p>Taichi falls to his knees. He gathers Koromon in his arms and pressing his face into his partner, whose floppy ears move to loop around Taichi’s neck. He wants to whisper assurances, but his voice is stuck in his throat, so he settles for squeezing Koromon instead.</p><p>When he gets up, Koromon still in his arms, he knows he has to turn around to face the friends he knows are hovering behind him. When Taichi does, he looks at them, seeing four shades of frightened staring at him.</p><p>He stares back, vaguely aware of his phone vibrating in his pocket.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope that was worth the wait. Comments and kudos are love. &lt;3 Cheers all.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Too Old To Die Young (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Additional Notes for this Chapter: Panic attack aftermath in scene 3, however nothing too detailed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Nineteen: Too Old To Die Young (Part 2).</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Taichi</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>And from the morning till the night</em><br/>
<em>We try,</em><br/>
<em>They said it all would turn out right</em><br/>
<em>But they lied</em><br/>
<em>Yes, they lied</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em> Too old to die young.</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><br/>
<em>- Don’t Wake The Lion (Too Old To Die Young), Magnum</em> </strong>
</p>
<p> </p><p>He wants to go back. The rest of them are adamantly against it.</p><p>Jou argues most profusely. Mimi chimes in occasionally. And Koushiro joins in when Jou calls on him to accentuate a point, but mostly, Jou argues. The Chosen of Knowledge spends most of the time staring aimlessly at his computer, internalizing some guilt he has no duty to own. Taichi listens faithfully, nodding when Jou pauses, and the flow of the conversation calls for it. On some level, Taichi knows he should listen to his friends, but he also wants to go back.</p><p>Everything inside of him is still red-hot. Piping hot. Scorching hot.</p><p>It’s screaming at him to go back. To finish this.</p><p>It’s only when he looks at Sora, clutching Pyocomon, covered in dirt, and still wearing an expression of worry mixed with fear, that he relents.</p><p>Koushiro opens the portal.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>That piping hot current is still pulsing through his bloodstream when he pushes open the door to exit Koushiro’s apartment building, his exhausted, apologetic, digimon held gingerly in his arms. Taichi’s breathing hard by the time he reaches the street level, having sprinted down the stairs, yet he still feels like there is excess energy inside him, screaming to be used in a particular way.</p><p>The sprinting does nothing to calm him. The anger feels insatiable.</p><p>“Taichi!”</p><p>It’s Sora’s voice. Taichi tilts his head slightly towards the lobby of the building where Sora stands, meeting her eye for the briefest of seconds before making a choice and cowering: he turns down the street, quickening his pace, even though the muscles in his legs are already burning. It’s a directionless movement too, turning right, even though he has no idea where he’s heading.</p><p>Home maybe, maybe elsewhere. Somewhere where he can stifle this feeling in peace.</p><p>“Taichi!” Sora calls, followed by a hasty, “I’m sorry, excuse me, I’m sorry,” as she pushes past a woman walking her dog along the sidewalk. Her footsteps are heavy on the pavement as she chases him, in contrast to the few strangers who are also walking on the street, all of them calm and unconcerned as they proceed about their evening walks. “Taichi, stop!” his friend calls again, much closer this time, and when he doesn’t pause, a hand reaches out, clutching and tugging at his elbow.</p><p>“What.”</p><p>His tone is sharp. His skin feels like it’s on fire under her cautious grip, as she pulls him so he’s face-to-face with her.</p><p>Sora flinches at his tone, but she doesn’t let go. If he looks closely, he can tell how exhausted she is, still clutching closely Pyocomon to her chest, but her expression is schooled as Sora uses her grip on his elbow to steers him into a side street, as she asks: “What was that?”</p><p>It’s a question, but not a negotiable one and Taichi shifts awkwardly under her examination. He takes half a step back, putting a bit of pavement between them, drawing his elbow back in the process. “Nothing, I just want to get home. I’m tired. Koromon’s tired. We’re obviously done—”</p><p>“You live in the other direction,” Sora interjects, frowning. She pauses, pulling the side of her bottom lip into her mouth as she decides how to proceed, and then releasing it a moment later with a small sigh. “And that’s not what I meant. I mean, what happened <em>there</em>—in the Digital World.”</p><p>“I told you. I wanted to find Gennai.”</p><p>It’s the truth, but it’s also an incomplete truth. But explaining the insatiable need for answers seems impossible. He’s not sure how to put into words everything that’s driving him forward. That there’s a heat in his blood propelling him to get answers. That every neuron in his body is firing with a singular purpose. That it’s not just SkullGreymon who is clinging to existence, with its claws outstretched and teeth bared, but to an extent it’s also him. That his heart is pounding and, still, even now, that thrumming in his head is still loud. That he’s not sure that he will ever sleep or rest or live until he’s tied off these stray questions that eat at him.</p><p>So instead, the muscles in his shoulders stiffen and his jaw clenches. He makes himself meets Sora’s gaze. Her eyes are wide and concerned; his own likely hard and hot and defensive.</p><p>“Find, yes. We all agreed that <em>find</em> was a good idea. We were all okay with <em>find,</em>” Sora is saying, putting significant emphasis on the one word. “But you went beyond that—Taichi, you weren’t thinking. You were reckless. You could have gotten us all killed.”</p><p>“Nothing I did was reckless,” Taichi counters, sharply.</p><p>“Wasn’t reckless? Taichi!” There’s an increasing edge to Sora’s voice, even as she struggles to keep it consistent. For years, Sora has been putting herself in the middle of arguments, usually featuring himself and a certain bearer of friendship, always striving to remain impartial, but today it sounds like she’s only a few decibels from shouting at him herself. “SkullGreymon appeared—for you that’s the definition of reckless!”</p><p>The ensuing silence is suffocating.</p><p>Taichi stares at her, and she stares back, eyes now unusually intense. There’s unnatural distance between them, something that has never been there before. Her eyes seem to be searching him and for a moment he wonders if he’s bleeding hot blood. If she can see his skin vibrating.</p><p>“Sora, come on,” Taichi murmurs, finally, shifting on the sidewalk in increasing discomfort. He lowers his voice to something gentler, trying to distance himself in her eyes from the image of the skeleton-digimon lumbering towards them. “It wasn’t like that.”</p><p>“I just wanted to help,” Koromon adds, quietly, from Taichi’s arms. The digimon lifts his head from Taichi’s chest just for a moment to look at Sora. In Sora’s arms, Pyoconom doesn’t even stir, too exhausted and injured from the fight he put them through. Taichi’s gut clenches.</p><p>For a moment, he’s distracted and almost misses the change in Sora’s face: whatever she sees on Koromon’s face has an effect on her, and for a second she just looks tired and regretful and sad. Despite the tension between her and Taichi, she tries to smile at Koromon, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.</p><p>Sighing, Taichi tries to placate her further. “Sora, I was in control the whole time.”</p><p>Her head snaps up at that, meeting his gaze defiantly. “No, you weren’t,” she counters, harsh enough that Taichi’s mouth closes automatically. She looks him to Koromon and back again, as if she’s searching for some sort of clue. “You almost—Taichi, I’ve watched you do rash or stupid things before. I’ve watched you be insensitive and push people past their limits—but I’ve never seen you intentionally put your friends lives in danger.”</p><p>“I told you all not to come.”</p><p>Sora purses her lips together, as if trying to drum up patience.  “That was never going to happen. We weren’t letting you go alone.” She shifts Pyocomon to one arm, placing the other on her hip, using the motion as opportunity to gather her words, choosing carefully. “We just didn’t need to rush into things.”</p><p>Taichi tries very hard to swallow his vehement disagreement. He wonders if his intake of breath is audible—or visible—as he tries desperately to keep down the part of him that wants to snap at her, to release the angry static that he’s felt inside of him for weeks.</p><p>“We didn’t need to chase him,” Sora continues, when he doesn’t give her a response. “There was no need to rush into a situation we knew nothing about. We didn’t need to put people in danger.”</p><p>“This is important Sora,” Taichi stresses, when he feels like his voice is even enough to speak words aloud.</p><p>She lifts her eyes to meet his, continuing, softly, “More important than keeping each other safe?”</p><p>For long moment the two Chosen just stare at each other. He’s not sure what Sora’s feeling, but there’s something inside of him bubbling and moments later it spills over, and he finds himself snapping at her, near shouting: “I’m trying to keep people safe—fuck, I watched him die, Sora!”</p><p>Sora flinches. In his arms Koromon makes a slight whining sound and Taichi has to pause to physically force himself to loosen his grip around his digimon partner. Again, he has to try very hard to swallow everything that’s boiling inside of him.</p><p>“You all don’t understand” he continues, “I need to do this. <em>We </em>need to do this. In order to keep each other safe. I watched Nishijima die, Sora. I almost had to watch the younger kids die. This is important, going after Gennai—”</p><p>“We watched you die,” Sora interrupts, her eyes wide and bottom lip starting to tremble. “Do you realize that? We thought we lost you.” The words tumble out her mouth, emotional and unfiltered. A spectrum of emotion passes over Sora’s face. “Your sister thought you were gone. So did all your friends. We all thought you were dead. <em>I </em>thought you were dead.”</p><p>“Sora—”</p><p>“I thought you were going to die again today,” Sora says, voice wobbling ever so slightly. She takes a breath to steady herself. “I thought I was going to lose you again. If I didn’t die alongside you this time, that is.”</p><p>“Sora. I would <em>never</em> let that happen,” Taichi insists, before she can continue.</p><p>He reaches out with one hand, trying to grab her wrist in some sort of messed-up effort to comfort her, but she draws her hand back before he can touch her, her face twisting into a bitter smile. Her hand comes up to finger the large flower blooming from the top of Pyocomon’s head.</p><p>“Sora,” he repeats, sucking in a breath. He has to kill that line of thought: the entire point of this is to keep them safe. Her, Yamato, Hikari. All of them. “That’s why I need to do this. To keep all of us safe.”  </p><p>“Taichi," she starts, finally, chewing at her lower lip. Her expression stabs at Taichi, the gnawing guilt making him nauseous, his pounding heart making him dizzy.</p><p>“Sora,” Taichi says back, interrupting when she pauses for too long. He’s saying her name too much, trying to sound calm and reassuring, even though he feels, and she looks, anything but reassured. “I need to stop him. And if that takes SkullGreymon then... Then that’s what it takes.” Sora gapes at him, her mouth opening and closing as she looks for the right words. He takes advantage of that, continuing, “We were told there’s no wrong evolutions—maybe SkullGreymon is the one I need now. I have to do this. I have to get him.”</p><p>“Seeking revenge isn’t courageous, it’s stupid!” Sora snaps, her voice anxious and worried.</p><p>“Sora.” He repeats her name again, aiming to offer some sort of rationalization when his attention is snapped away from her. His phone has begun to vibrate in his pocket again. Tremoring against his leg. He curses under his breath, shifting Koromon to one arm as he digs it out of his pocket.</p><p>He already knows who it is.</p><p>“Is that Yamato?” Sora says quietly, watching him stare at his phone, which is flashing the Crest of Friendship on its screen.</p><p>“Yeah,” Taichi says, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll call him back.”</p><p>She frowns. “Does Yamato know?” she asks, and when Taichi shakes his head, her eyes instantly narrow. “Are you going to tell him? Tell him that you’re giving up on him and on Omegamon—that you’d rather get revenge?”</p><p>“It’s not revenge, Sora—"</p><p>“Isn’t it?” Her tone is sharp, cutting. “He deserves to know. This will matter to him.”</p><p>“I know—"</p><p>“Do you?” Sora asks. Her eyes sear into him. “Is that why we went this week, without him?”</p><p>Taichi swipes his tongue over his teeth. The lie comes easily: “We went this week only because Koushiro found something this week.”</p><p>“Oh,” Sora says, with just a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “So, Yamato knows then. He’s okay that you disappeared back into the Digital World to do something stupid, just a few weeks after he lost his best friend.”</p><p>He winces, biting his tongue before he can lash out. Judging by the hard, satisfied look in her eyes, she got the reaction she wanted anyway.</p><p>“You have to tell him,” Sora insists, “About all of this. Gennai. SkullGreymon.”</p><p>“I will,” Taichi replies, impatiently. She levels him with a look, and he returns it with a scowl. “I will! Just, not yet. He’s got three shows left, Sora.”</p><p>“He deserves to know.”</p><p>Taichi scowls again. “He deserves to enjoy this opportunity too. I’ll tell him when he gets back.”</p><p>Sora sighs, and all of a sudden, she’s calm. When she speaks, her words hold none of her earlier fire, just a promise: “If you don’t tell him, I will.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Taichi’s hands shake as he clutches Koromon to his chest with one arm, fumbling with the apartment lock with the other. He missed the lock twice already, dropping his keys to the ground on the second attempt. On the third the door opens on its own.</p><p>“Forget your key again?” Hikari says, a hint of teasing in her voice—a rarity these days—as she holds the door open for him. She tilts her head to wait for his response, keeping her eyes on him for longer than she has in a month.</p><p>Taichi doesn’t reply, just pushes past her into the apartment and toes off his shoes in seemingly one movement. As he does, Hikari’s gaze flickers from his face to his arms, noticing Koromon for the first time. </p><p>“Koromon? Taichi—what happened?” she asks, voice dropping from the teasing lilt into concern. At Hikari’s question, Tailmon looks up, attention diverted from where she is reaching for a piece of sashimi from the takeout dinner that is spread out across the kitchen table. “Taichi?” Hikari continues, reaching for his elbow.</p><p>Shaking her off, Taichi takes a few quick steps towards his bedroom, Koromon still in his arms, head resting against his chest. He slams his bedroom door hard, the doorframe shaking as he enters his room.</p><p>“Taichi!” A knock rattles his door further. “Taichi—What happened? Is everything okay? Did something happen in the Digital World? Taichi!”</p><p>Taichi places Koromon on the bed. He traces the length of Koromon’s ear gently with his hand, letting it flop back down onto the bed when he reaches the end. His fingers tremble, his entire body still shaking with a mix of anger and anxiety.</p><p>The knocking persists, Hikari’s voice becoming more and more persistent with each increasingly intense rap against the door. Taichi takes a deep breath, makes a futile attempt to still the pulsing anger inside of him, before flinging the door open.</p><p>“What do you want,” he states, coldly.</p><p>Hikari blinks, his aggressive tone seeming to shock her, which just makes Taichi angrier. His sister opens her mouth slowly, picking her words with immense care. “I just want to know if you and Koromon are okay.”</p><p>It’s a struggle not to roll his eyes and despite his effort he still scoffs, audibly. “Now you care?”</p><p>Hikari face falls, but she ignores the direct accusation. “Koromon—why is he Koromon? What happened to cause—”</p><p>“Hikari,” Taichi interrupts, his voice taut. He curls his fingers around the edge of his bedroom door, squeezing the ridges. “You don’t get to ask questions now, after spending the last month thinking that I’m some murderer, and wishing I’d stayed gone.”  </p><p>His sister opens her mouth to reply, but he’s faster: closing the door in her face and muffling her voice behind the fiberboard.</p><p>When he turns around to face his room again, his hands are still shaking. He crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits to still them. He can still feel static running under his skin, nowhere close to feeling calm.</p><p>He was so close. <em>So close.</em></p><p>A part of him feels like something was stolen from him—again. Another venture into the Digital World where he is the clear loser, made a fool of—again. He was so determined this time. One singular goal: find Gennai. Finish this. And when he finishes it, then it will all stop: the nightmares, the anger coursing through his blood, the vibrations under his skin.</p><p>And if he could have just got his hands on him, he could have done that. He could have… <em>Could have what?</em> he asks himself, landing on the true issue—the one Sora was pointing to—he’s not sure he ever really knew what he was going to do. He just wants to get his hands on Gennai. He wants answers. He wants to find Gennai and make Gennai as vulnerable him to as they all were to Gennai.</p><p><em>To get some sort of revenge, </em>an angry whisper tells him.</p><p>There’s a part of him that wants to dismiss the voice. But maybe that would be lying to himself. And with the way his hands are shaking, fingers itching grab the fabric of Gennai’s robes, he admits that yes—to an extent it’s about exactly what the voice warns him about.</p><p>Yes, it’s about protecting his friends. Yes, it’s about making sure this never happens again. Yes, it’s about getting answers. But he’s also angry. He’s not sure anger would be coursing through him like this, unable to be stilled, without wanting some sort of revenge for everything Gennai put him through. For everything he took. And he’s not sure that anger will subside until all of this is finished.</p><p>So, yes: maybe part of him wants revenge.</p><p><em>And does that make you the monster? </em>the voice inside of him taunts.</p><p><em>No! </em>a part of him objects, at the same time another part cries: <em>maybe. </em>It sends his mind spiralling: images of red numbers, and white shirts caked in blood, and a crazed man laughing in his face. A bout of electricity courses through him; the thrumming in his head growing louder as the pounding in his chest picks up pace. <em>Failure. Failed leader, failed friend, failed brother. Deserter, murderer, coward. <strong>Monster— </strong></em>the voice whispers, on repeat. <em>The type of monster that betrays his partners and hurts his friends—</em></p><p>“Taichi?” Koromon says, jumping off the bed and breaking into Taichi’s thoughts. “Taichi?”</p><p>Taichi’s eyes flicker towards the digimon, bouncing on a spot. “Yeah?” Taichi croaks, voice caught in his throat.</p><p>“Taichi, I’m sorry,” Koromon repeats—he’s been apologizing since they left Sora and the others, repeating his regrets again and again. For not being strong enough, or good enough, or quick enough.</p><p>Taichi sinks to his knees, crouching in front of Koromon, whose ears are wilted to the ground. “It’s my fault,” he murmurs, “I did it. I’m… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”</p><p>Koromon’s eyes widen. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Taichi.”</p><p>Taichi shakes his head, presses the palms of trembling hands into his eyes. “There is. I made you—SkullGreymon came back. That was me.” He gestures to his chest. “That was this.…”</p><p><em>This monster, </em>the voice taunts and Taichi feels his chest tighten again.  Blood rushes through his ears—<em>thump, thump, thump</em>—and he can essentially see his chest moving up and down beneath his shirt.</p><p>“Taichi?” Koromon says, moving until he’s in the peripheral of Taichi’s vision again. His ears jet out to latch gently around Taichi’s wrist, trying to get his attention.</p><p>The movement startles him and Taichi gasps, sucking in air to try and fill his lungs and centre himself. He feels lightheaded, the thrumming in his head getting louder, a darkness rushing in.</p><p>“Taichi… please talk to me….”</p><p>He tries to respond, but his voice won’t come out. Taking a few deep breaths, he leans forward, trying to centre himself by placing his cheek on the cool floor. Koromon crouches too, putting his eyes right in front of Taichi’s face. Taichi tries to focus on him, on the pink, worried looking digimon in front of him, and just keep breathing, trying to push all the darkness and anxiety down.</p><p>“Taichi?” Koromon says again, after some time, “Taichi, should I get Hikari?”</p><p>Taichi tries to shake his head, face still pressed to the ground. “No…” he manages, between deep breaths, “No…”</p><p>“Maybe Sora? Jou?” Koromon offers, blinking heavily at him, small face creased with worry, “I can try to call Yamato…”</p><p>Taichi shakes his head again, struggling to find breath for words as he tries to keep the panic down. “I’m okay,” he lies.</p><p>“Taichi…” Koromon whispers, “Maybe we need help…”</p><p><em>Maybe this is what Gennai meant, </em>Taichi’s mind counters, and the voice in his head echoes its agreement. <em>This is the monster that he warned me I was becoming. </em></p><p>It feels like the past month is rushing over him. Every decision, every mistake, every person he put in danger, or killed, or let down: all of it flooding him, eating at him, adding a layer of static to an already anxious mind. He’s not sure how to get out from here. Or where the other side is.</p><p>Taichi!” he hears Koromon say, again. He blinks ferociously, the digimon just a pink blob in his cloudy vision.</p><p><em>I’m not sure where the other side is, </em>he thinks again, clenching his teeth, and with that, something clicks. His eyes move away from Koromon and towards the disorganized mess that is his desk. With great effort, he pushes up onto his forearms and then to his knees, pausing at intervals to take deep breaths. Once on his knees he crawls closer to the desk, muttering, instead of replying to Koromon, “Where is it…”</p><p>“Taichi,” the digimon pleads, “Did I say something wrong? Are you mad?”</p><p>Taichi stops tearing apart his desk for a moment to turn to his partner. “No,” Taichi forces out, the word releasing in a hiss, before he turns back, dumping a box of paper on the ground and starting to comb through the segment of the mess.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Koromon says, voice small and weary.</p><p>Taichi shakes his head, pushing the useless mound of papers to the side. He forces himself to stand up, starting to lift things on his desk. He doesn’t care about the noise he’s making, as object after object gets flung to the floor. He doesn’t reply right away, looking through the mess that has taken up residence on his desk.</p><p>“Taichi?”</p><p>“I’m… I feel,” he stops and takes a deep breath, but nothing stills. Everything continues to scorch through him. “Angry,” he admits, lifting both his hands to run them ferociously though his hair.</p><p>“At me?” Koromon queries, sounding worried.</p><p>“Not at you,” he says, hoarsely, shaking his head. Dropping back to his knees, he clenches his fists at his sides, beating them lightly on the floor. “Just. Can’t stop,” he admits in a whisper, “I don’t know how.”</p><p>Koromon blinks blearily at him. “I’m sorry, Taichi. I tried—”</p><p>“I know,” Taichi replies, quickly. He runs a hand down Koromon’s ear again, trying to provide some reassurance. He knows he tried, it’s not Koromon’s fault that they couldn’t get the job done, that they couldn’t do things right. Koromon’s not the reason they failed.</p><p>It’s him. It’s this anger burning inside of him.</p><p>Taichi sighs deeply and gets to his feet again. Staring at the desk, he reaches for the old stack of schoolbooks and old football magazines sitting on the corner, lifting them one by one. Finally, at the bottom of the stack is the item he’s looking for. He picks it up, holding it tightly between his thumb and forefinger as he gropes for his phone.</p><p>He dials, clutching the phone to his ear. The phone rings once. Twice, and his heart sinks a bit. Three times, and he starts to feel overwhelmed all over again.</p><p>On the fourth ring a voice finally answers.</p><p>“Hello?” Taichi says back, and then continues without waiting for a response: “It’s Taichi Yagami. You told me to call.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The place where Agent Takamasa tells Taichi to meet him is not what Taichi’s expecting.</p><p>When Taichi pushes open the door to the unmarked building, he’s pretty certain he’s made a mistake. The inside looks like no government building that he’s ever been in—not that he’s been in a lot, but the last two months of his life has given him some experience. There’s no stodgy front desk or secretary waiting from him, just a large floor with some mats spread over it and large raised platform with ropes lining the edges.  In the corners of the primarily concrete room are several weights racks, and, along one side, punching bags hang from the ceiling.</p><p>“<em>Cool</em>,” Koromon exclaims, drawing out the vowel and squirming in Taichi’s arms for a better view.  </p><p>“This can’t be right,” Taichi mutters, scanning the room. Aside from a few unfamiliar looking men with weights in the far corner, the room is mostly empty. A few of the bags swing slowly from the rafters, as if someone recently stopped hitting them. It leaves Taichi feeling confused and slightly irritated, having forced himself to make the call he had convinced himself he was never going to make and dragged himself out of his room and out of his apartment.</p><p>Looking around the room one more time, Taichi grits his teeth and turns to leave. He’s pulling out his phone to recheck the directions he was given, when he hears his name being shouted from across the room: “Yagami!”</p><p>Taichi looks up and jogging towards him from the far corner is Agent Takamasa. The agent looks completely different than last time. Gone is the suit, replaced by a black athletic sleeveless shirt and dark red shorts, and his hair, meticulously gelled the last two times they’ve met, falls loosely in front of his face, plastered to his forehead in places where sweat has grabbed hold.</p><p>Takamasa stops a few paces in front of Taichi, his eyes appearing to scan Taichi, searching for something in the teenager’s demeanour. Taichi chews on his bottom lip nervously as he waits for Takamasa to say something.</p><p>“And who is this?” Takamasa says, without any other form of greeting, bending slightly at the waist to peer at Koromon.</p><p>“I’m Koromon!” the digmon replies, cheerfully, squirming in Taichi’s arms until Taichi lets go and Koromon can bound down onto the gym mat. “I’m Taichi’s digimon partner.”</p><p>“It’s nice to meet you Koromon,” Takamasa says, with the barest of smiles.</p><p>Takamasa’s lips curve upwards ever so slightly, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes; his face is as stoic as it was the last two times, a particular solemnness residing in his facial expressions. There’s something about his expression that makes Taichi uncomfortable, like their interaction is still a bureaucratic formality, but Koromon either doesn’t mind or notice, bouncing up and down in agreement.</p><p>Takamasa nods at the digimon before turning his attention back to Taichi. “Good, you’re wearing some sort of athletic attire,” Takamasa continues, without any segue. He gestures to a shelf to the side of the entrance. “Grab some gloves, kid.”</p><p>“Um,” Taichi starts, not sure what to say. He frowns down at his sweatshirt and shorts, before looking around again, wondering if his face shows the confusion that he feels. He was expecting an intervention, some lecture on how to cope with anger and otherwise tumultuous emotions, not… this.</p><p>“Gloves,” Takamasa repeats.</p><p>Taichi stares at him, but all the agent does is nod, sharply, in the direction of the shelf again. Confused, Taichi walks towards the table, shrugging off his sweatshirt as he does.</p><p>“What are we doing?” Taichi asks, as he picks up a clean-and-dry looking pair of gloves.</p><p>Takamasa gives him a long hard look, before stating, simply: “Hitting stuff.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When they’re finished, Takamasa leads him and Koromon to a nearby late-night coffee shop, gesturing for Taichi to sit on a bench outside. Taichi can feel the sweat drying on his skin beneath his sweatshirt, getting stuck on the fabric, and in the places where his skin is exposed to the night’s air, it feels cold and clammy. His shoulders and arms hurt in a way that football never makes them ache. But overall, he feels better: stiller.</p><p>“That wasn’t what I was expecting,” Taichi murmurs, softly to Koromon, once he’s sat down on the bench, obediently, watching as Takamasa enters the coffee establishment.</p><p>“No?” Koromon says, tilting his big eyes to the sky to look up and backwards at Taichi. “I thought it seemed fun.”</p><p>“It was kind of fun,” Taichi admits. He says it with a degree of reluctance, even though the night has taken a turn for the better, the activity having driven most of the negative emotions from the forefront of his brain. Takamasa guided him through some sort of boxing routine, mostly letting him hit a padded target, and even the punching bag for a bit, once in a while offering a murmured word of guidance or suggestion on technique. “I just thought he would have already made me talk about what happened, not, well, work out.”</p><p>Koromon shifts, body moving slightly in a movement Taichi interprets as a shrug. “Maybe he doesn’t like talking to teenagers. You all are complicated.”</p><p>“Gee thanks.” Taichi snorts, pressing his palm gently into Koromon’s head in jest. The digimon giggles and Taichi finds himself able to crack a small smile.</p><p>A few minutes later, Takamasa returns to the bench, a coffee cup clutched in each hand and a takeout bag tucked under his arm. He holds a cup out to Taichi. “It’s tea. Caffeine free,” he adds when Taichi takes too long to take the offered cup. “It is almost midnight.”</p><p>Murmuring his thanks, Taichi takes the cup from Takamasa’s outreached hand. Takamasa nods and sits down on the other side of the bench, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back against the metal frame, arm resting casually over the back. The agent tears open the side of the takeout bag revealing an assortment of leftover, end-of-day pastries on the bench, which Koromon eyes greedily.</p><p>“Go ahead,” Takamasa tells Koromon and the digimon digs in happily. Takamasa grabs one himself, taking a bite before stating: “So, it got too dark.”</p><p>He says calmly and in a way that makes Taichi feel like Takamasa is oversimplifying the matter; speaking for him, when the agent knows nothing about anything.</p><p>“Maybe a bit.” Taichi frowns down at his tea, grateful for something to focus on other than Takamasa. “I’m feeling better now though. The boxing, it helped. Thanks,” he adds, hoping that will end the conversation.</p><p>Takamasa studies him for a minute, taking a long sip of whatever beverage he got himself. “That’s not how this works,” he says, “I told you to call when it got too dark. And it took you a month, but call you did.” Taichi can feel Takamasa’s eyes on him, judging. “Why?” </p><p>Taichi hesitates, considering how to respond, but before he can settle on anything, Koromon, between loud bites, chirps, “We went to the Digital World.”</p><p>Taichi conceals a sigh by taking a sip of his tea, burning his tongue slightly as the liquid enters his mouth. It stings, yet the slight pain isn’t entirely unwelcome. A reminder that he can feel something other than anger. </p><p>“The Digital World,” Takamasa repeats, tilting his head upwards to the sky. “Is that the first time you’ve been back since Nishijima died?” </p><p>Taichi’s gut twists at the way Takamasa says it so casually. Like they’re talking about the weather, or the last time he attended soccer practice. It makes his throat dry up, any and all words dying on the tip of his tongue. He searches for words and Takamasa waits; the agent’s gaze heavy as he studies him. </p><p>“No,” Koromon answers, when Taichi takes too long, “We went before to find V-mon and the others.” The words are accented with teeth clacking together as Koromon polishes off another pastry. As soon the pastry disappears, an orange glow surrounds him and Agumon appears on the bench.</p><p>Takamasa doesn’t even look phased by Agumon digivolving between them. “Thank you, Koromon,” he says, offering the digimon the last pastry, which Agumon takes happily.</p><p>“It’s Agumon now,” Taichi corrects, weakly, locating his voice. </p><p>“Ah. Of course. Hello, Agumon,” Takamasa says. Agumon squawks a greeting back, chewing loudly, tiny bits of food escaping his mouth as the digimon speaks. Taichi cringes, but Takamasa doesn’t flinch, just holds Taichi’s gaze and waits.</p><p>“I found Gennai,” Taichi says, finally. Then he sighs and edits himself, “Well, my friend did.”</p><p>“I see,” Takamasa says, slowly, and then waits.</p><p>Taichi squirms in his spot, tapping his foot against the ground. He looks at Takamasa out of the corner of his eye, all unconcerned and nonchalant, legs crossed and leaning casually against the back of the bench. The indifference radiating off the man stands starkly in opposition to Taichi’s nervous energy.</p><p>Dragging one hand through sweaty hair, Taichi forces out an explanation, “I thought it would make this”—he gestures to himself with a wild hand—“stop. I thought if I could just get my hands on him and get answers, I could… stop… feeling like this.”</p><p>Takamasa doesn’t respond, just peers at Taichi over the rim of his coffee cup, before taking a long sip. Taichi finds the long look claustrophobic, averting his eyes to stop feeling like he’s under a microscope. Leaning forward, he rubs a hand over his mouth and chin, drawing a ragged breath in through his fingertips.</p><p>“I can’t get it out of my head,” Taichi says, after a few minutes of staring into space while Takamasa waits. “I keep seeing him, all the blood covering him as he lies on the ground of that place. Keep hearing his voice telling me that I have to go, before I see his hand drop out of view.” Taichi clears his throat, clutches the cup of tea tightly. “Keep seeing the countdown stop, and then there’s a whirling. Then the pod door opens and I’m somewhere else and he’s just gone.”</p><p>Agumon stops chewing on the last pastry, pushing closer into Taichi’s side. Taichi pauses long enough to uncurl his fingers from around the cup, placing it down on the bench and running the backs of his fingers over the smooth ridge of Agumon’s claws.</p><p>“Gennai laughed.” Taichi moves his other hand off his chin to rub at his temple, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before snapping them open again, Gennai’s face rising unbidden. “Nishijima was dying and Gennai laughed,” Taichi continues, quietly, still staring forward into space, unwilling to meet Takamasa’s eyes, even though he can feel Takamasa listening. “It was all a game. This great fucking horrific game. And I don’t know when he’s going to want to play next. And I can’t stop thinking about that.”</p><p>Taichi drops his head into both hands, raking his fingers over his face, digging in hard to his cheekbones. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, little flickers of anxiety licking at him.</p><p>“I’m angry all the time,” Taichi says. He hisses out a breath, then continues, speaking fast: “Nishijima’s dead because of me. I couldn’t protect him, and I feel like any second Gennai’s going to come back for round two and I’m going to be responsible for another person dying.”</p><p>“Yagami,” Takamasa says, shifting on the bench, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward slightly hovering a bit over Agumon’s space on the bench. Taichi looks at Takamasa out of the corner of his eyes, keeping his head resting in his hands. “I told you before, you saved five of six people that day. That’s nothing short of heroic.”</p><p>Taichi scoffs. “Heroic would be if I’d dealt with Gennai before he hurt anyone.”</p><p>“And you think it has to be your responsibility to stop him,” Takamasa replies, in a way that makes Taichi wonder if he’s stating a fact or seeking clarification.  </p><p>“Of course, it’s is my responsibility!” Taichi tells him, head flying up. “It’s been my responsibility since I was eleven—I’ve always been responsible for keeping people safe.” He gestures wildly to the side with one hand. “Keeping the fucking world safe.”</p><p>Takamasa frowns. “Yagami—”</p><p>“You don’t understand,” Taichi snaps, voice tight and tired, “I’m Chosen. That’s what it means. Keeping people safe. Keeping my friends safe. Something I was pretty shit at this past summer.”</p><p>Takamasa doesn’t so much as blink at the interruption, but his eyes do sharpen. “That’s a lot of responsibility for a seventeen-year-old.”</p><p>“Well, that’s the gig,” Taichi says bitterly, “If something happens to any of them—again—that’s on me.” He lets out a whistle of breath through his teeth, trying to settle himself, anxiety rising in his chest. “I have to do this. I have to deal with Gennai… before anyone else gets hurt.”</p><p>Taichi looks over at the agent with a desperate look, trying to convey the importance of this. Agumon’s eyes dart between the two of them, still holding his unfinished pastry in his claws.</p><p>Takamasa frowns once again, before asking, “And what if something happens to you?”</p><p>“I—” Taichi starts and then stops abruptly, steeling his expression. “Nothing is going to happen to me.”</p><p>Taichi’s skin prickles when Takamasa releases a sharp laugh. “Right.”</p><p>“I need to do this,” Taichi says, pointedly, eyes narrowing at the agent. He shoves down his anxiety, trying to place it somewhere inside of him where he can deal with it later.</p><p>“That may be so,” Takamasa counters, arching one eyebrow, “But are you certain this is a game you can win?”</p><p>Taichi glares at him. “What other choice do I have? There’s no other way.”</p><p>“No other way to protect your friends?” Takamasa asks, levelling Taichi with a hard look, “Or no other way to stop feeling angry?”</p><p>“Both,” Taichi snaps back, trying to keep the anger out of his voice and failing miserably. Needing to move, he gets to his feet and paces a few steps, turning to look at Takamasa, hands held out helplessly at his side. “I need to do something. I can’t keep feeling like this—I can’t sleep. I feel angrier and more anxious than I ever have—”</p><p>“There’s other ways to deal with these emotions,” Takamasa interrupts, unflinching in his seat.</p><p>“Like what?” Taichi can feel his voice rising in volume as he replies. “Like boxing? Hitting stuff? There’s only one <em>thing </em>I want to hit.” Taichi scoffs, raising his hand to his head, running it back through his hair, sweat clinging to his fingers. “You wouldn’t understand. I watched someone <em>die. </em>I—”</p><p>Taichi cuts himself off mid-sentence, distracted by his phone that is vibrating again in his pocket. He gropes at his pockets, taking the phone out. Taichi knows instinctively who it is, yet he still pauses to check the caller-ID, staring at the blinking Crest of Friendship that has shown up on his phone’s screen.</p><p>“Do you need to get that?” Takamasa asks, voice completely steady unlike Taichi’s, which he feels is half-hysterical.</p><p>“Um,” Taichi glances up from his still vibrating phone to look at the agent, who has recrossed his legs and leaned back against the bench, like he’s already won their argument. “Yes. Ya—They’ve called a few times. I should get it this time.” Takamasa takes an unconcerned sip of his coffee and Taichi takes his silence as implicit permission wander a few metres away, taking a deep breath and raising his phone to his ear as he does: “Hey.”</p><p>“Fuck, finally,” is Yamato’s abrupt reply. “I’ve called a few times—where the hell have you been?”</p><p>Despite things, Taichi finds himself chuckling at Yamato’s outrage. The irritation clear in his voice—something that was probably once concern, but has, over the course of the evening, devolved into pure indignation. “Hello to you too,” Taichi murmurs, feeling some of his own irritation wash off him.</p><p>“Hi,” Yamato replies, sighing into the phone. Wind rustles against the speaker and Taichi can hear the low hum of music somewhere in the background. “Where are you?”</p><p>Taichi looks around him, at the coffee establishment, the mostly empty street corner, and Takamasa sitting on the bench, next to Agumon. “Koushiro’s,” he lies, not wanting to explain everything yet, particularly not over the phone.</p><p>“Oh.” There’s a small thud, like Yamato’s tilting his head back against a wall. “Can you talk?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Taichi smiles into the phone, teasing, “I’ll just tell him I’m seeing a super clingy new thing that desperately wants to talk to me.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Yamato mutters back, without any real venom.</p><p>Taichi chuckles again, then clarifies: “I’m joking.”</p><p>There’s a shuffling sound on the other side of the phone, followed by the sound of a lighter click. Taichi registers his objection by making a disgruntled noise, which Yamato ignores.  “Why haven’t you been answering? I’ve been calling.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Taichi mumbles. Pausing for a moment, Taichi looks over Takamasa and Agumon, only to find Takamasa staring at him. Taichi pulls his gaze away quickly, turning his back on the bench. “Just preoccupied.”</p><p>“Everything okay?” is the quick response.</p><p>“Yeah, Yama,” Taichi lies again, “Everything’s fine. How was your show?”</p><p>“Taichi—”</p><p>“I’m fine, Yama,” Taichi interrupts, trying to sound firm. “How was the show?”</p><p>Yamato blows air into the phone, out of irritation Taichi’s sure. “It was good. Smaller audience, but I kind of liked that. Felt a bit off all day, so lower-key show was probably good.”</p><p>“I’m glad the show went well,” Taichi says, a tremor of guilt ripping through him. “No after-party?”</p><p>“There is one. I’m outside.”</p><p>“Oh,” Taichi says, lamely, another tremor running through him.</p><p>Yamato clicks his tongue and there’s a pause, both of them debating how to proceed. Taichi can tell that, to at least some extent, Yamato knows that something is amiss, but this isn’t a conversation Taichi wants to have on the phone. It’s not a conversation he wants to have at all, although it’s a conversation they’re going to have.</p><p>“You should be inside having <em>fun</em>,” Taichi says, when he decides they’ve both been quiet for too long. He tries to sound more cheerful. “You should be enjoying this. This is your dream—go celebrate with your band.” He forces a laugh. “I’ve heard from you every night for the past week. You’re going to see me in… three days?”</p><p>“Four,” Yamato corrects. Taichi can hear him take a drag off his cigarette.</p><p>“Four,” Taichi amends, “I’ll see you in four days. The second you get back.”</p><p>Yamato huffs into the phone. “And you’re sure everything’s okay?”</p><p>Taichi forces a smile, hoping Yamato can hear it in his voice. “Yeah. All good.”</p><p>There’s a pause again, before Yamato mumbles, quickly, “Okay—bye.” And then before Taichi can reply at all, the phone goes dead, the dial tone echoing in Taichi’s ear.</p><p><strong>‘I miss you too’ </strong>Taichi types out, as he makes his way back towards the bench where they’ve been sitting for the last half hour, pressing send right before he sits back down. He shoves his phone back in his pocket. He picks his tea back off the bench, takes a small sip of the now-cool beverage. “Sorry about that.”</p><p>“That person,” Takamasa says, studying him, “Is that the person you’re trying to keep safe?”</p><p>A stray thought of Yamato in Nishijima’s place enters his mind, and Taichi feels a tremor run through his body. “I’m protecting all of them,” he says, firmly.</p><p>From the way the agent is looking at him, it’s clear that he knows it’s more than that. Taichi wants to tell him where he can shove all that judgement, but he stops himself, averting his eyes and chewing on his lower lip.</p><p>“How is that person going to feel if you play a game you can’t win?” Takamasa presses, ignoring Taichi’s deflection. “If you’re going to play, Yagami, if this is how you think you can protect people, you need to know you’re also going to hurt people.”</p><p>“I have to do this.”</p><p>“Do they know?”</p><p>Taichi shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe. It’s complicated.”</p><p>Takamasa hums thoughtfully but moves on. “There are other ways to deal with these emotions. You need to find those ways, as, even if you successfully go after Gennai, the anger, the darkness—all of that isn’t going to go away overnight. It’s not that simple.”</p><p>Another tremor rips through him as Takamasa finishes speaking and Taichi grits his teeth. He grips the coffee cup in his hands so tightly the paper crumbles in his fist, leftover fluid spilling over his knuckles. He can feel both Agumon’s and Takamasa’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t turn to meet either of them, just stares at the coffee cup and tells himself that Takamasa is wrong and that this will fix it.</p><p>It has to fix it.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A moment for shameless self-promotion: I wrote a Valentine's Day fic set in the same timeline as this fic, set pre-Kizuna, in their first year of university. Added to a series now called "Further Down the Road". Check it out (this one is rated teen): <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418213">p.s. i love you</a>.</p><p>Also I checked the stats again (I can't help myself), and it still blows my mind that 150 of you are subscribed to this. Who are all of you? I adore you all. I do hope you feel inspired to leave a comment on some chapter, as I'd love to know what you think, what you've liked, and just have a chance to thank you by username (although I thank you all constantly in my head). Comments are adored! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Empty (Part One)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No real additional warnings here. No explicit stuff in this chapter, however it's implied in section 2, but the scene doesn't include it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Twenty: Empty.</strong>
</h4><h4>
  <strong> <em>Yamato</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>Will I always feel this way</em><br/>
<em>So empty</em><br/>
<em>So estranged?</em><br/>
<em>Well I looked my demons in the eyes</em><br/>
<em>Lay bare my chest</em><br/>
<em>Said do your best</em><br/>
<em>To destroy me.</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><br/>
<em>– Empty, Ray LaMontagne</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>It’s the last night of the tour and the after-party backstage is intense.</p><p>The tour manager stopped caring that Yamato and his band were underage days ago, and ever since then the main act has been plying Knife of Day with celebratory alcohol. Yamato’s bandmates are in heaven—living it up, treating the tour like it’s the best days of their lives, and maybe it is. Yamato, though, is outside, phone pressed to his ear with Taichi on the other end prattling on about some football game. Yamato tugs the jacket he’s wearing tighter around him, and, as Taichi talks, he leans back, closes his eyes and listens. He’s been on edge the entire evening—the entire tour, really—so the party can wait, he’s content to just listen to Taichi exist on the other side of the phone. Even if he’s talking about something Yamato cares nothing about.</p><p>“So, how was the last show?” Taichi asks, when he finishes rambling and decides Yamato has been silent for too long.</p><p>Yamato rakes a hand through his hair and grimaces when it comes back wet, sweat and leftover gel now sticking to his hand. He wipes that on his jeans. “It was fine.”</p><p>“Fine?” Taichi repeats. “Besides from being the last one—wasn’t this one of the bigger shows on the tour? And you’re going with fine?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Yamato mutters. He can hear Taichi tut gently on the side of the phone, so Yamato reluctantly elaborates: “We played alright. Koji fucked up a key change, that was annoying.”</p><p>“Fine. Alright. Annoying.” Taichi lets out a whistle. “I’m glad you’re in the band and not writing the music reviews.”</p><p>Yamato manages to chuckle at that. Then, they’re silent for a few minutes as Yamato searches for some other way to describe the show and fails. He slumps against the venue wall, pulling his cigarettes out of his back pocket, so they don’t get crushed as he slinks down, until he’s sitting on the ground of the alley. He takes one out of the package and lights it.</p><p>Taichi lets out an exaggerated sigh at the sound of the lighter click, registering his objection, which Yamato ignores. Both of them let the silence linger for a bit longer, before Taichi speaks again, teasing gently: “Yama, cheer up, I’m sure the show was better than fine.”</p><p>“I know,” Yamato replies, dully. He scowls, even though Taichi can’t see his face.</p><p>“So, shouldn’t you be celebrating?” Taichi prods, annoying as usual, “You’ve been talking about getting a tour like this with your band since we were what—thirteen? Fourteen? This is exciting. This is what you’ve dreamed about, yet you barely wanted to go and now you’re sitting outside on the venue— on your last night! I can hear the party happening in the background— and you’re talking to me.”</p><p>“I want to talk to you,” Yamato offers, taking a drag off his cigarette. <em>And I need to remind myself that you’re okay, </em>he thinks, but he keeps that part to himself.</p><p>Even though he can’t see him, Yamato can picture Taichi roll his eyes, smacking pink lips as he makes some sort of silly face at Yamato’s comment. “You’ve talked to me every night since you’ve left,” Taichi says, chuckling lightly, “I’m going to see you tomorrow.”</p><p><em>But I need to talk to you. You almost died and now I’m hundreds of kilometers away from you, and I miss you, and I feel like something could be wrong, and I’m constantly anxious you won’t exist anymore when I get back, </em>Yamato replies in his head, then aloud, tersely: “We get in really late.”</p><p>“Yamato,” Taichi says, sternly, ignoring his last comment. “You’ve dreamed about this forever. Enjoy it. You have one last night to rectify this whole situation and party your face off.”</p><p>Yamato looks towards the door. He can hear Koji and Tomohiro yelling in the background, the content of the conversation indistinguishable over the pounding bass. Maybe in a different timeline, joining in on the party would appeal to him. But there’s something unsettling about joining a party when less than a month ago he almost lost everything that means something to him—Gabumon, Taichi—and both of those things still feel so distant, almost like they could cease to exist if he looked away for long enough.</p><p>“I guess,” Yamato sighs.</p><p>“I just want you to enjoy this.”</p><p>“Fine. I’m going back to the party now then,” Yamato says, gritting his teeth. “I’ll talk to you later.”</p><p>“Bye,” Taichi replies, and then quickly, before Yamato can disconnect: “Hey—I miss you, you know? I’ll see you the second you’re back.”</p><p>Yamato makes some sort of noise in agreement, before hanging up the phone and tilting his head back, so it falls hard against the brick wall of the venue. <em>I miss you too, </em>he thinks, staring up the wall at the sliver of sky visible above him. Same sky that Taichi’s looking at, yet he feels so far away. It makes Yamato feel uneasy. He takes a few more drags off his cigarette, as he tries steady himself.</p><p>He’s alone for only a few more minutes before Koji has poked his head out of the venue: “Yamato! What the fuck are you doing out here on the ground? Get in here and drink with us.”</p><p>Yamato obediently flicks his cigarette onto the asphalt. “Sorry. Needed a smoke break,” he lies, as he hoists himself to his feet</p><p>Koji nods knowingly, looping an arm around Yamato’s shoulder and grinning. “Dude, tonight was awesome. Let’s enjoy it!”</p><p>Yamato rewards Koji with a half-hearted smile and lets himself be led back into the venue.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It’s just after eleven when the van drops Yamato and Tomohiro off in a parking lot not far from their apartment complexes. “Great work this week,” the tour manager says, as the two seventeen-year-olds stumble out of the van. “And congratulations, boys.”</p><p>Yamato and Tomohiro each lift a hand in farewell, and the van pulls away, destined to bring the other two members of Knife of Day to their respective buildings. Stifling a yawn, Yamato slings his guitar case over one shoulder and readjusts his grip on the gym bag that holds all his dirty laundry from the last ten days.</p><p>“That was some week,” Tomohiro whistles, as he and Yamato approach the street corner where they’ll part ways. Yamato nods his agreement, bidding the drummer goodnight and heading off in the other direction.</p><p>When Yamato gets to his building, he finds himself veering to the stairs—an engrained habit by now—and as he climbs them two at a time, he fishes his phone out of his pocket. He hits call and instantly the Crest of Courage illuminates, filling his phone’s screen.</p><p>There’s only one ring before Taichi’s voice fills the other side: “Hey.”</p><p>“I just got home,” Yamato tells him, staring at the ground as he pushes the door open to the walkway.</p><p>“I know,” Taichi replies, and this time Yamato hears his voice twice. Yamato’s head snaps up and there, pressing up from the ground in front of his doorway, a few metres in front of him, is the owner of the voice himself.</p><p>“You’re here,” Yamato says, dumbfounded, phone still pressed tightly to his ear. In his chest, Yamato’s heart leaps at the sight of him.</p><p>“Hey, I said—” Taichi says into the phone, then stops short, rolls his eyes and disconnects the call, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I said I’d see you as soon as you got home,” he continues, grinning.</p><p>Yamato grins back, still a bit shocked. He takes a few more strides forward and then, in one fluid movement, drops his bag on the ground, throws his arms around Taichi’s neck, and kisses him.</p><p>Taichi’s hands come either side of Yamato’s waist. “Whoa,” Taichi says, between kisses, “Hello to you too.”</p><p>“Hi,” Yamato breathes, pulling back far enough to look Taichi in the eye. He keeps one arm—with the hand still holding his phone—looped around Taichi’s neck and draws the other hand back just far enough to cup Taichi’s face, the tips of his fingers tangling with strands of brown hair. The emptiness residing in his chest starts to dissipate, as he runs a thumb across Taichi’s cheekbone, relishing the feeling of the skin tensing under calloused fingers when Taichi smiles.</p><p>“Miss me?” Taichi asks, a wide grin on his lips.</p><p>“Maybe a bit,” Yamato mumbles, and Taichi starts to laugh, low in his throat. Yamato yanks him closer by the strings of his sweatshirt so Yamato can cover Taichi’s mouth with his own and drink the sound from his mouth. Kissing him fiercely, desperately: rushing to refamiliarize himself with the sound, the smell, the taste, the feeling of him.</p><p>Taichi’s arms encircle Yamato’s waist, just below his guitar case, to pull him closer. Yamato finds himself melting into the kiss. Pressing their bodies together. Holding Taichi’s collar to keep him close.</p><p>For a moment, he forgets they’re standing in the hallway, outside his apartment, where any of his neighbours could see them, until Taichi, against Yamato’s lips, murmurs, “Are you going to invite me in?”</p><p>A flush of embarrassment colours Yamato’s cheeks, as he reluctantly pulls back, bending to rummage through his bag on the ground for his apartment key. Hip pressed into Taichi’s palm, he opens the door quickly, pushing it ajar so both of them can file into the entranceway.</p><p>“Where do you want this?” Taichi asks, holding up Yamato’s bag that he’d scooped up off the ground.</p><p>“Wherever.” Yamato shrugs, turning around to lean his guitar case against the wall, at the same time he toes off his shoes.</p><p>When he turns around, Taichi is staring at him, brow is furrowed, seemingly restless. He hasn’t yet put down the bag, so Yamato grabs the strap, using it to pull both the bag and Taichi towards him. Yamato unclenches Taichi’s fingers from around the strap and lets the bag fall with a thump to the floor. He captures Taichi’s hand in his and pulls him back into a kiss, unable to handle the distance between them any longer.</p><p>“Your dad’s not here?” Taichi asks after a minute, his mouth hovering a few frustrating inches from Yamato’s.</p><p>“No,” Yamato replies, shaking his head, both in response to the question and because he’s aggravated at Taichi’s apparent need to chat. Taichi’s eyes seem to soften a bit, looking less nervous, and Yamato takes that as a good sign, adding: “He said he’d see me tomorrow. All the better for us, if you ask me.”  </p><p>Finished with the conversational interlude, Yamato leans in again, aiming to bring their mouths back together, but Taichi misreads his movement, engulfing Yamato in a fierce hug instead, arms wrapping tightly around Yamato’s waist. Although a flicker of annoyance runs through him, Yamato indulges Taichi in his hug, wrapping his arms tighter around his boyfriend’s neck.</p><p>“How was tour? Was it good? Did you have fun? Think there will be another one?” Taichi fires off questions in rapid succession, face pressed into Yamato’s shoulder.</p><p>“It was good,” Yamato replies, gently. He forces Taichi to loosen his grip on his waist so Yamato can pull back and look him in the eyes. “You know that though. We’ve talked every day,” he adds, ignoring the new round of questions.</p><p>Taichi nods slowly, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth. It’s a movement Yamato finds himself watching, raptly, as his fingers play with strands of brown hair that fall over Taichi’s neck. He plants a kiss on the side of Taichi’s neck.</p><p>“Well, I’m glad you’re back,” Taichi is saying, sounding a mix of sincere and nervous. He shifts slightly, toeing off his shoes as Yamato continues kissing him, peppering kisses along his jawline. “Are you hungry? Need to shower? I can hang out while—”</p><p>“Taichi,” Yamato says, using his hand to turn Taichi’s chin back to his and silence him. Yamato arches one of his eyebrows, giving Taichi a hard, insistent look. Brown eyes meet his and blink fast, as if mildly startled. “Shut up,” Yamato stresses, leading Taichi’s lips back to his.</p><p>Thankfully, Taichi does. The kiss deepens. Tongues slide together. Taichi’s fingers play with the lip of Yamato’s shirt, fingers grazing skin, teasing. Yamato nips at Taichi’s bottom lip, using the placement of his hands on either side of Taichi’s face to control the angle, ensuring that he can get everything out of the kiss. Everything that he’s been wanting.</p><p>Yamato’s missed this: him. For ten days he’s felt unanchored and anxious, adrift in a sea of unease and emptiness, arising from being separated. Ten days of closing his eyes at night and seeing green light and dust and pain, not knowing for certain if his partner is safe. He still hasn’t been able to shake the need to constantly hear or see him, in order to assure himself that Taichi’s alive, and hasn’t been torn out of him again. It’s only with every touch of their skin and brush of their lips, that it feels like things are shifting back into place.</p><p>“Taichi,” Yamato murmurs, “Why are we still standing in the entrance way? There’s many more comfortable places to do this…” Yamato trails off seductively, licking the line of Taichi’s mouth. In response, a satisfied sound escapes the brunet, which Yamato steals off his lips, feeling something warm and dizzying flicker through him.</p><p><em>Here. Alive. And with me, </em>he thinks, grateful and starting to relax.</p><p>“Yama,” Taichi says, as Yamato begins to walk Taichi backwards across the floor, towards the couch. “Before we—well—I need to talk to you.”</p><p>“Later,” Yamato says, smothering Taichi’s attempt at protest in another kiss. He continues to guide Taichi backwards until Taichi’s knees hit the edge of the couch and he falls down, only for Yamato to climb into his lap a second later. “Turns out I did miss you,” Yamato adds.</p><p>“I missed you too,” Taichi replies, between kisses, still responding each and every time Yamato presses his lips to Taichi’s. “But I need to—”</p><p>The words are cut off as Yamato nips gently at Taichi’s bottom lip, slipping his tongue in the moment Taichi lets out a tiny gasp. Yamato deepens the kiss, enjoying the way Taichi’s hands slip up under his shirt to caress bare skin. </p><p>Likewise, Yamato’s fingers are on a mission: checking for damage, assessing for injury, ensuring Taichi’s in one piece. One of his hands slips beneath the neckline of Taichi’s shirt, feeling the smooth skin hidden beneath. The other threads its fingers through Taichi’s hair, using his grip on strands to tilt Taichi’s head to better slot their mouths together. The emptiness inside of Yamato continues to dissipate with every graze of his fingers over unmarred skin.</p><p>But to his frustration, Taichi pulls back, breaking their connection: “Yamato. Talk”—he tries, as Yamato rolls his hips downwards and the word gets cut off in a groan and a press of lips together, before Taichi forces words out again—"We need to—”</p><p>“Make up for ten days of not being able to do this,” Yamato finishes for him, lowering his teeth to Taichi’s throat.</p><p>Taichi makes a sound of want in response and then, he finally moves with some vigour: seizing Yamato’s hips, fingernails digging into flesh, and pulling him further into his lap. Yamato tilts his head to fuse their mouths back together, greedily seeking kiss after kiss after kiss. His hand clasps the side of Taichi’s face, possessive fingers running through his hair. He draws breath after breath of Taichi in, every inhalation helping to burn away his anxieties.</p><p>After a bit, Yamato draws his mouth back, kissing Taichi one more time, almost chastely, before starting to slide off Taichi’s lap. Taichi looks up at him, lips parted in a wordless protest as Yamato stands up and takes a small step away.</p><p>He needs more.</p><p>He needs to run his hands over every part of Taichi, ensure that every piece of Taichi is intact. He needs to feel him: it’s always better when he can feel him. Physically, but also emotionally, psychologically—their connection, every piece of it. How warm and present and steadfast Taichi always feels, even in their most trying moments. Yamato’s felt what it’s like to barely be able to feel him and then to not feel him at all, and he’s never letting that happen again.</p><p>Everything else can wait. Nothing matters but the two of them.</p><p>“You know,” Yamato says, slowly, swallowing nerves. “You’re right, I should take a shower.” He makes a show of pulling the hem of his shirt away from his torso and frowns down at the two-day old mostly still white shirt. He then looks up, meeting Taichi’s eye and takes a breath to settle the butterflies that are fluttering in his stomach. “Want to come?”</p><p>Taichi’s eyes widen for the second Yamato’s comment takes to register, and then he’s off the couch, arms encircling Yamato and mouth back on his, hard and hungry.</p><p>And with that, all the emptiness slips away.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When Yamato wakes it takes him a moment to recall that he’s no longer sleeping in a cramped van or a cheap hotel, but that he’s back in his own bed, where the sheets are warm and soft against his skin. It takes him only a second longer to remember that there should be someone there with him, that Taichi spent the night and that Yamato fell asleep wrapped in that boy’s arms. But once he remembers: it clicks why there’s no emptiness pushing down on his chest, and why he, after ten days, finally feels calm.</p><p>Stretching out his arm, Yamato reaches for him, but finds only empty space. The bed’s still warm though, in the spot Taichi used to occupy, so he can’t be long gone. And while there’s a part of him that wonders if Taichi’s slipped out of the apartment, a more self-assured part of him knows there’s no way he’s far. There’s no way Taichi would leave him.</p><p>Yamato rests his hand on the sheets for a moment to soak in the heat through his palm, before opening eyes and confronting the light streaming in through his bedroom window. He’s feels like he’s slept for ages, but it’s still not enough. He’s still exhausted and he aches and part of him could sleep forever.</p><p>Yamato blinks and with great effort swings his legs out of bed, surveying the room in front of him.  It looks like a tornado came through it, clothes everywhere and his bag and guitar case dumped unceremoniously in the corner. His insecurities are alleviated through when he spots Taichi’s brightly coloured sweatshirt laying in a heap of fabrics near his closet. Standing, Yamato sets about equipping himself with the bare minimum of clothes, pulling on a clean pair of boxer shorts and yanking Taichi’s sweatshirt over his head, leaving the hood covering his hair.</p><p>Armed with some clothing, Yamato opens the door to his bedroom and stumbles out, looking for signs of either his erratic father or his wayward boyfriend. Evidence appears in the form of clattering emanating from the kitchen, and when Yamato turns the corner, he finds Taichi standing in front of the kitchn counter, holding a coffee mug in both hands.</p><p>Yamato smiles and takes a few more steps towards Taichi, arms circling Taichi’s waist as he leans into him, pressing his chest against his back. “Morning,” he says, tucking his chin onto Taichi’s shoulder. “You got up without me.”</p><p>Taichi chuckles. “Morning,” he murmurs, before turning his head slightly, just enough to bring his lips to Yamato’s, chaste but burning. “I was going to come back,” he adds, placing a mug back on the counter.</p><p>“Why’d you get up?” Yamato asks, tipping his face into Taichi’s neck and taking a deep breath in. It’s satisfying. Grounding. “Did you sleep okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, Yama, I slept fine,” Taichi replies, and then clarifies: “Well, mostly fine.” Yamato can hear the frown in his voice, as Taichi pushes whatever thoughts are haunting him away. Yamato squeezes Taichi’s waist tighter in response, wanting nothing more than to keep him safe from those thoughts. Safe from everything. “But that’s not why I got up. I got up because it was after ten.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“It’s eleven now,” Taichi adds, with a huffed laugh.</p><p>“Oh,” Yamato repeats, almost sheepishly.</p><p>Raising a hand, Taichi pats the hood of the sweatshirt, still covering Yamato’s hair, affectionately. Yamato lifts his face to peer at Taichi, only to find Taichi’s brow furrowed, and eyes crinkled around the edges, as Taichi studies him.  </p><p>“You sleep alright?” Taichi asks, concern coating his voice, “How are you feeling after—are you okay?”</p><p>Yamato nods into Taichi’s shoulder. “I’m okay.” He kisses Taichi’s cheek quickly. “Better than okay.”</p><p>At that, Taichi’s face seems to relax and Yamato chuckles, squeezing Taichi’s waist again to reassure him. He places his chin back on Taichi’s shoulder, holding on as Taichi continues tinkering around in Yamato’s kitchen. He seems to have helped himself to tea since he woke up, judging by the mostly empty cup that sits on the countertop, next to a half-eaten apple.</p><p>“Coffee?” Taichi asks, pulling out another mug from a cupboard.</p><p>Yamato eyes the coffee maker. “You made coffee?”</p><p>Taichi tuts softly, moving to fill the cup without waiting for a real answer. “I am capable of things,” Taichi chides him, bringing the mug back to his chest, lining it up with Yamato’s fingers.</p><p>Yamato takes it from his hand, reluctantly releasing Taichi’s waist and stepping back to lean against the counter. Taichi reaches for the kettle to refill his own cup with water, and Yamato finds himself watching intently as Taichi’s forearms flex, the small movement giving the muscle all too much to do. Forcing himself to look away, Yamato takes a sip of his coffee to keep himself from dropping the cup and pressing Taichi up against the counter or dragging him back to bed.</p><p>“Is my dad here?” Yamato asks instead, abruptly changing the conversation.</p><p>Taichi shakes his head. “He’s gone already.”</p><p>“You talked to him?” Yamato replies, slight panic rising in his chest. His dad likes Taichi and is fine with him staying here, Yamato’s just not sure he’s ready to explain to his dad why Taichi’s standing in their kitchen in the morning, throat lined with bruises and wearing one of Yamato’s shirts by the looks of it.</p><p>Thankfully, Taichi is shaking his head again. “No.”</p><p>Taichi leans over towards the fridge, tapping a note is stuck to the front of the fridge. His dad’s familiar scrawl, outlining that he left again early that morning and will be back sometime in the afternoon. A mix of relief and annoyance flickers through Yamato. He shouldn’t be surprised at this development: it’s predictable, and yet, still somewhat disappointing.</p><p>Something mirroring dissatisfaction must flicker across Yamato’s face, as Taichi reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers and pulling him towards him, into a half-embrace. Taichi kisses him again, before asking: “Breakfast?”</p><p>“I can get myself something,” Yamato retorts, pulling out of the embrace and leaning towards the fridge.</p><p>Taichi reaches an arm out to stop him. “I can do it,” he insists, “You sit.”</p><p>“Taichi,” Yamato sighs, even as he’s being steered towards the kitchen table. A half-hearted flicker of annoyance travels through him as he’s sidelined in his own kitchen. “I live here. I know how things work, and how to create some sort of meal out of the bare minimum of food that’s likely in that fridge.”</p><p>“I know that,” Taichi says, grinning, as he forces Yamato to sit down. He leans in, lacing a hand behind Yamato’s head and kissing him firmly. Yamato whines lowly in his throat, trying to keep Taichi still, keep him kissing him, but his overactive boyfriend is already on the move. “I want to.”</p><p>Yamato places his mug down on the table and folds his arms across his chest. “You don’t need to baby me, just because we…” he grumbles, trailing off when he realizes Taichi’s not listening, his head stuck in the fridge, pulling out half its contents, his hero-schtick in overdrive. Yamato sighs, heavily, drawing Taichi’s attention back to him, wide brown eyes peaking at him over the fridge door. “Just don’t make too much of a mess. I <em>will</em> have to clean that up,” Yamato adds.</p><p>Taichi laughs, pulling the top off what appears to be jam. It splashes slightly on the counter. “Promise.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Yamato picks at the concoction before him, that can sort of be considered ‘breakfast’. As he suspected, the fridge contained barely any food and even less of it resembled something edible. At his instruction, Taichi threw out various items—even though Yamato’s reasonably sure Taichi would have eaten everything—so before him is slightly burnt toast, an assortment of random close-to-perished vegetables, and the rare piece of fruit that happened to still be kicking around.</p><p>He’s starting to wonder if his dad forgot he was coming home last night and only remembered when he saw his bag on the floor and shoes lined up at the front entrance.</p><p>“Do you want to just go get breakfast?” Yamato asks, staring at a leaf of kale that’s one brown spot away from dead. “I know it’s past noon now, but we could still go.”</p><p>“Maybe in a bit,” Taichi replies, oddly dismissive.</p><p>Yamato glances up at him, arching an eyebrow in a question mark, the ‘really?’ silent but heavily implied. Taichi isn’t even eating, seemingly ignoring the food in front of him, which is unusual. As is the fact that his legs are completely still under the table, not doing their regular bouncing thing. Yet, Taichi’s hands are tapping against the mug.</p><p>“So, um, Yamato,” Taichi says, ignoring Yamato’s unspoken question, “So, last night, I said I needed to—"</p><p>“Talk to me, yeah,” Yamato interrupts, shrugging sheepishly. He plops the browning kale leaf in his mouth, best before dates be damned. “Sorry about that.”</p><p>Taichi chuckles softly, fingers still tapping against the mug. Yamato adjusts the position of his legs to wrap them around Taichi’s, crossing his ankles behind Taichi’s. He yanks slightly and Taichi’s chair screeches closer to the table, bringing their thighs together.</p><p>“Hopefully last night was better than talking,” Yamato adds, making his voice intentionally sugar sweet. Taichi blushes madly, and Yamato snatches the win with unashamed grin.</p><p>“Definitely,” Taichi says, softly, giving him a small smile. “But Yamato…”</p><p>Taichi’s sentence is short-lived: he starts speaking and then just as quickly stops, abruptly cutting himself off as Yamato’s phone starts vibrating on the table.</p><p>“Shit,” Yamato says. He glances up at Taichi, whose staring at his phone, brows knitted together, and lips pursed white. “It’s probably my dad. Likely going to be late again. Queue more apologies,” Yamato grumbles as he reaches for his phone.</p><p>When Yamato looks at the screen though it’s not his dad: it’s Sora. Yamato frowns down at her Crest, confused and slightly annoyed. While he knows she’s aware he’s back today, he’s not sure why she would be calling now. Maybe a few months ago this call would make sense, during one of their ‘on-again’ periods, but this seems unusual, even for Sora who is always checking in on their group. But even taking that into account, there’s no need for this call: he’ll see her at school tomorrow when the new term begins. They might not be in the same class anymore, but there will be plenty of time to catch up in the hallways between lessons.</p><p>“Who is it?” Taichi asks, interrupting Yamato’s thoughts.</p><p>“Sora,” Yamato replies, still staring at her flashing Crest.</p><p>Instantly, Taichi’s eyes narrow. “Yama, don’t answer that.”</p><p>Yamato glares at him. Perhaps he’s being intentionally provocative, but his moods prickles instantly at the instruction, and Yamato raises the phone slowly to his ear, ignoring Taichi as he continues to protest. Taichi’s mouth snaps shut the moment Yamato says, “Hey.”</p><p>“Hi Yamato,” Sora greets. Her voice sounds odd on the other side of the phone, slightly muffled and oddly timid. “Welcome home. How was the tour?”</p><p>Yamato frowns into the phone. “It was good. Thanks. You could have asked me that at school tomorrow.”</p><p>Sora chuckles, half-heartedly. “I know. I just…” she trails off.</p><p>Yamato finds himself frowning again. He raises his eyes from the table to meet Taichi’s, who is staring at him, eyes dark and worried, lip pulled into his mouth, caught between his teeth. Yamato’s not sure what’s happening, but he feels caught: stuck between the boy at the table and the girl on the phone. For a millisecond, he finds himself wondering if this is how the conversation between the girl he used to be with and the boy he’s now with—the boy he <em>belongs </em>with—happens.</p><p>And then Sora says: “Has Taichi told you yet?”</p><p>The cycle of Yamato’s thoughts grinds to a halt as he processes that, before letting out a drawn out, confused: “Told me what?”</p><p>“Yamato,” Taichi whispers, hoarsely. “Hang up, okay?”</p><p>Yamato silences him with another glare. “Told me what, Sora?”</p><p>“Is he there?” Sora asks, quickly, likely having heard the rumble of Taichi’s voice.</p><p>“Yes,” Yamato confirms. Taichi starts to protest again and Yamato waves himi quiet. “What should he have told me.” It’s a statement, not a question. Taichi slides his hand across the table, his eyes willing Yamato to hang up, but Yamato’s stubborn and he asks again: “Sora.”</p><p>There’s a long pause on the other side of the phone.</p><p>“He should tell you,” Sora says, finally, her voice tight. “I just wanted to make sure he did. Before we’re all together at school tomorrow…”</p><p>Across the table, Taichi’s eyes are pleading with him. A sense of unease rises inside Yamato as he stares at the boy across the table and listens to Sora’s voice hitch on the other side of the phone.</p><p>“Why don’t you tell me, and that’ll ensure he tells me,” Yamato states, knowing his voice has gone cold, by the way Sora inhales on the other side.</p><p>“Um,” Sora stutters.</p><p>“Sora.”</p><p>“We went to the Digital World,” Sora says, the discomfort evident in her voice. “And we found Gennai. Taichi should tell you the rest,” she says, exhaling sharply, and then there’s rustling on the other side of the phone as Sora promptly hangs up.</p><p>Yamato lowers the phone to the table slowly, in contrast to how the world has just dropped out from beneath him, fast as anything. His heart is pounding. There’s a tension billowing in his chest as every feeling of emptiness, anxiety, and loss he’s experience over the past couple months rushes through him.</p><p>All he can see, hear, and feel is green and dust and crumbling rocks and pain.</p><p>“You went to the Digital World,” Yamato repeats, slowly.</p><p>“Yama…” Taichi says his name softly, reaching for his hand again, but Yamato yanks his back.</p><p>“You went after Gennai…” Yamato clarifies, swallowing hard. It feels like his heart has been forced into his throat, pushed up by the tension billowing in his chest. “You went back <em>there</em>.”</p><p>Taichi winces, visibly. “Yama, listen to me. There was a reason—”</p><p>“Were you going to tell me?” Yamato asks, not letting Taichi finish.</p><p>“I tried to tell you!” Taichi argues, irritation clear on the brunet’s face. “I tried last night. I started to try again this morning, except you answered your damn phone.”</p><p>Yamato clenches his hand into a fist by his side, the other one hanging on to the edge of the breakfast table. He stares at the plates of food between them. He’s not sure if it’s the food or the situation making him feel sick, but suddenly his stomach feels like it’s been hallowed out.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Yamato sputters, trying to sort through his thoughts quickly. “Why would you go back there…” He glances up at Taichi, searching his face for a plausible answer.</p><p>“Yama, I had to go back. To protect us—all of us.” Taichi is saying, making excuses, “Koushiro managed to track Gennai. To track down the lab—and there were signs, that he was still active. Still out there—"</p><p>Taichi carries on talking. Yamato watches as Taichi’s mouth moves, catching the odd word or two as Taichi desperately tries to explain, but Yamato barely hears him. His mind is whirling.</p><p>Everything is rushing back to him: the green light splitting the ground, the earth shifting beneath them, Taichi’s hands shoving him, the dust rising around him. Taichi disappearing between the cracks in the ground, and then suddenly recognizing that not only had he disappeared from sight, but he’d disappeared from <em>within </em>Yamato. And then, suddenly, Yamato wasn’t able to feel him at all.</p><p>He’d been left with this emptiness. An emptiness that had remained even after Omegamon had de-digivolved. An emptiness that returns every time Taichi is out of sight. An emptiness that right now is rushing through him, reminding him of <em>that </em>moment, the worst of his life, abandoned and faced with the possibility of living in a world without Taichi in it.</p><p>Taichi could have died. He almost did die. Yamato almost lost him. Forever. </p><p>“Why the fuck would you go back there?” Yamato asks his question again, spitting out the words, interrupting his partner’s explanation—an explanation that he’s only caught bits and pieces of, as his mind is busy running through worst case scenarios. Taichi jumps as the palms of Yamato’s hands come down hard against the table as he pushes back his chair angrily. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”</p><p>“Someone needs to stop him, Yamato,” Taichi argues, still sitting. His voice is considerably calmer than Yamato’s. “I know you’re going to say it’s dangerous—”</p><p>“Of course, it’s dangerous!” Yamato snaps and Taichi’s mouth falls shut again. “I almost lost—you almost—” He stops abruptly, closing his eyes for a second before taking a deep breath and continuing: “You almost died there! Nishijima <em>did </em>die there.”</p><p>“You think I don’t know that?” Taichi retorts, voice so tight this time that for a moment Yamato almost feels guilty.</p><p>Taichi pushes up from his chair, skirting around the table so he can reach for Yamato again, trying to pull Yamato towards him. Yamato moves out of his reach, putting a chair between them. He raises his hands to rake them over his face in frustration, and as he does, he’s caught off guard by Taichi’s scent on the sleeves his sweatshirt that Yamato had forgotten he was wearing. It does nothing to calm him.</p><p>“Yama, that’s why I went,” Taichi says, his voice straining, not quite at Yamato’s volume, but getting more intense. “He’s still out there—Gennai. He’s out there and I don’t know what his plan is, or if he’s coming back, or what he’ll do when he comes back. I have to do <em>something</em>.”</p><p>“No,” Yamato finds himself saying. He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to steady himself, as he can feel himself starting to shake. “No. We’ve done enough.”</p><p>Taichi frowns. “Yama, I—we have to do something. What if he comes after one of us again?”</p><p>Taichi takes another step towards Yamato, placing a hand on each of Yamato’s shoulders. He moves his hands up and down Yamato’s arms, trying to comfort him, trying to still him. Yamato lets him, even as he continues to shake his head in protest.</p><p>“Yamato, Gennai took Daisuke and the others. He kept them there, in these pods!” Taichi explains, desperately, “From what we saw down there, he wasn’t just holding them there, he was stealing from them. Stealing their energy—slowly draining them. They would have died there if it wasn’t for Nishijima.”</p><p>“You could have died there,” Yamato repeats, shaking his head. He feels like a broken record, pleading the same pathetic refrain.</p><p>Taichi purses his lips, before deciding to dig in: “What if he comes back? And what if next time he comes back for another one of us. What if he comes after Takeru?”</p><p>Yamato bristles, scowling as he pushes Taichi away from him. “Don’t play that card,” he hisses, “That’s not fair.”</p><p>“Well, it’s true!” Taichi snaps back.</p><p>Yamato shakes his head, unwilling to believe that. “No. Homeostasis said—it said that it would shut Yggdrasil down. That’ll solve the infections. That’ll fix Gennai. He’s not coming for any of us.”</p><p>Taichi levels him with a hard look and Yamato finds himself jerking his gaze away. “We don’t know that!” Taichi argues, “What happens if Gennai’s not an infection? The real Gennai is still in that place, Yamato, I <em>saw</em> him. So, who is this imposter? Don’t you think we should find out?”</p><p>Yamato’s head is spinning. Everything feels like its caving in on him. Not for a second did he anticipate coming home to learn that he could have come back to the news that Taichi was gone, <em>again. </em></p><p>Taichi went back to the place that almost took him from Yamato.</p><p>Yamato could have lost him again.</p><p>Maybe he nearly did.</p><p>“And what if something happens to you?” Yamato asks, struggling to keep his voice even. “<em>Again</em>.”</p><p>“Well, if that happens, that happens,” Taichi responds, quickly—too quickly—throwing his arms out at his side.</p><p>Yamato’s heart freezes. Yamato stares at him, clenching his jaw together briefly before his mouth falls open: “I think that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.”</p><p>There’s a pause while both of them look at each other. Taichi’s eyes narrow in clear frustration and he drags a hand through his hair, pausing to rub at the back of his neck. His mouth opens and closes a few times and Yamato knows he’s searching for the right rationalization. The one that will make Yamato see his point of view. The one that will make Yamato bend to Taichi’s will.</p><p>But there’s no explanation that can do that. Yamato knows what it feels like to lose Taichi and he’ll never let it happen again. He’ll never let Taichi go back there. He’s not losing him again.</p><p>Yamato shakes his head, desperate. “No,” he says, breaking their eye contact as he turns to leave the room, moving towards his bedroom. He’s not entertaining this anymore.</p><p>“Yamato!” Taichi growls, following him. His voice is angry now too. “You’re the one that told me to fight!”</p><p>“That was different!” Yamato opens a drawer and starts rummaging through it, not entirely sure what he’s looking for just desperate to look anywhere else.</p><p>“How was it different? You’re being a hypocrite, Yamato,” Taichi snaps, coming up behind him and slamming the drawer shut with such ferocity that Yamato is forced to look up at him. “You told me we needed to fight. That I needed to pull myself together. Well, I did—you can’t decide you don’t like it now.”</p><p>“That was before!” Yamato snaps back.</p><p>“Before what?”</p><p>Yamato rakes his hands over his eyes in frustration again, before throwing his hands out to the sides and shouting: “Before I knew I could lose you!”</p><p>The sheer volume of his voice startles even himself, but it’s either that or his voice might break.<em> Keep breathing, </em>he wills himself, as it feels like at any moment he could collapse. He sucks a breath in. It feels like his last. And when the next words come out, his voice is near breaking.</p><p>“I never imagined I could lose you,” Yamato says, struggling to get the words out coherently. “<em>You </em>are not supposed to leave me.” He pauses, closing his eyes briefly. He feels like an idiot, as he adds: “You promised.”</p><p>Taichi’s eyes soften immediately. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing against Yamato’s skin, but Yamato stumbles backwards, moving further away, keeping himself just out of reach. He just can’t let Taichi touch him now, or he’s liable to crumble.</p><p>“Yama,” Taichi says, a modicum quieter, “It’s always been a possibility that something bad could happen to one of us. We’ve always been taking risks. I learned that in the damn pyramid. That’s what being Chosen means! You know that too.”</p><p>Yamato voice is shaking as he responds, “You can’t go back there. I won’t let you go after him.”</p><p>“Yamato, I have to. I need to know what Gennai’s planning—”</p><p>“No!” Yamato snaps, putting a clear edge of finality in his voice. “You don’t. You can’t.” Yamato grits his teeth angrily. His swallows again, trying to fight down the anger and fear, then tries to force his voice out evenly: “When—When was this?”</p><p>Taichi bites his lip. “Yama, I was going to tell you. I swear, I wasn’t hiding this—”</p><p>“When?” Yamato asks, more firmly, “When did you go after him?”</p><p>Taichi winces. “Four days ago.”</p><p>Yamato’s eyes widen for a second as things click into place. His show. The sudden thrum of tension billowing inside of him. And then a sudden collapse into an eerie silence. That day when it felt like something that usually beats alongside his own heart has disconnected. Taichi seemingly being out of reach and all the unanswered phone calls.</p><p>“I felt it,” Yamato whispers, the feeling replaying through his head. “I felt that,” he repeats, looking back at Taichi and meeting his partner’s eyes, which looked pained. <em>He knows</em>, Yamato thinks, and his heart clenches. “I felt you go there. To that place.”</p><p>Taichi’s eyes close for a moment. It looks like he takes a deep steadying breath and in response, Yamato’s body seizes up, preparing for the worst.</p><p>“That’s not what you felt, Yamato,” Taichi says, his voice so soft it’s almost hard to hear. “You didn’t feel me go there.” He pauses again. Whatever he’s going to say next is going to hurt, but he’s courageous so Taichi plows forward: “You felt the anger… my anger… bubble over. You felt Greymon evolve, but not into MetalGreymon… into SkullGreymon.”</p><p>Yamato’s chest seizes again. If that’s true, then what he felt wasn’t Taichi being in danger, it was their connection being snapped. It was Taichi diverging from the path that makes them… <em>them.</em> The path that makes Omegamon. The path that makes them partners.</p><p>The path that makes Yamato part of him.</p><p><em>What I felt</em>, Yamato thinks,<em> was Taichi closing himself off. Again. From us. From me.</em></p><p>A part of Yamato wants double over in pain. The tension in his chest is almost overwhelming. He feels lost—empty and anxious. He hasn’t felt this overwhelmed since the day Taichi fell through the ground. He feels suspended in the air; the entire world having dropped out from beneath him.</p><p>He feels alone.</p><p>That’s what he felt: the eerie silence of being alone.  </p><p>“Go home,” Yamato says, finally. He pulls Taichi’s sweatshirt over his head and thrusts it into Taichi’s arms.</p><p>“Yamato—”</p><p>“Go home,” Yamato repeats, swallowing hard to force a tremor back down his throat. “You need to go home.”</p><p>Taichi moves quickly, reaching for him: one hand catching Yamato’s arm and the other cradling his face. They touch for the barest of seconds, before Yamato pulls his face away from Taichi’s palm and yanks his arm back.</p><p>“Yamato, we need to talk—I’m not done talking.”</p><p>“I am,” Yamato replies, curtly, feeling awfully exposed, standing in his bedroom in shorts and not much else. “We have school tomorrow. New term. And my dad will be home soon.”</p><p>“Yama…” Taichi says, pleadingly. He finds Yamato’s eyes, who glares at him hard, daring him to say anything more. </p><p>Yamato shakes his head, picks up what appears to be Taichi’s shirt from the night before and holds it out for Taichi to take from his hands. Taichi reaches for it, slowly, brown eyes still pleading for Yamato to change his mind.</p><p>“Just go Taichi,” Yamato says, firmly, “We’re done talking.”</p><p>It takes Taichi a long moment, all through which he looks ready to argue the point, but finally—reluctantly—he leaves. Yamato stands there for a minute longer, staring at the closed door, before he collapses on the floor, his head held in his hands, and then all the pent-up emotions rush out.</p><p>If Yamato’s alone, he may as well be alone.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Twenty chapters in. Thanks to all who made it this far with me! </p><p>Comments are adored, so please drop me a line if you can. If you are so inclined, I'd also really love to know what (or which) has been your favourite chapter to this point in the fic.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Martyr of the Free World (Part Two)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No additional warnings for this chapter. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <strong>Chapter Twenty-One: Martyr of the Free World.</strong>
</h4>
<h4>
  <strong> <em>Yamato</em> </strong>
</h4><p>
  <strong> <em>Speaking in degradation</em><br/>
<em>A conversation can take a sudden turn</em><br/>
<em>And reaching the point of violence</em><br/>
<em>Because your silence left you without a hand to hold.</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><br/>
<em>– Martyr of the Free World, Epica</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>When Yamato hears Hiroaki step through the front door, he’s lying, alone, on the couch, in complete darkness, staring up at the ceiling. Yamato’s not entirely sure how long he’s been lying there, having only gotten up to answer the door to receive his takeout order from the delivery man. Otherwise, since Taichi left, he’s mostly been staring into space trying to make sense of the last twenty-four hours.</p><p>“Yamato?” Hiroaki calls from the front entrance.</p><p>Yamato can hear the rustling of coats being tossed onto hooks and then the sound of his guitar case falling over with a large thump, as it’s knocked off balance while his dad presumably takes his shoes off. Hiroaki swears under his breath, and then there’s a clattering while he picks up the guitar case, before walking into the main living area and flipping on a light.</p><p>Yamato blinks suddenly, the intrusion of the light startling him from his melancholy. He rolls his head to the side to look at his dad.</p><p>Hiroaki frowns, lips twisting into some form of parental concern. “What are you doing on the lying on couch in the dark like some sort of depressed person?”</p><p>“I’m tired,” Yamato responds, lamely. Without sitting up, he gestures out sideways towards the takeout containers are sprawled across the living room table. “Your part is in the fridge,” Yamato adds.</p><p>Hiroaki continues to frown at him, but he manages a “Thanks”, and then moves into the kitchen where the clattering continues.</p><p>Yamato grits his teeth at the noise but doesn’t move. His body feels wrecked: half of that is coming down off ten days of shows, the other half is from the gut punch he took today. Even now, he can feel that tension inside him. It still hasn’t dissipated, no matter how hard he tries to push away those feelings.</p><p>“You know,” Hiroaki says, having come back into the living area without Yamato noticing. The older Ishida collapses into a chair, talking as he shovels food into his mouth. “I expected to walk in here and find you, Gabumon, Taichi, and the dinosaur one—”</p><p>“Agumon,” Yamato reminds him.</p><p>“Agumon,” Hiroaki corrects, swallowing another mouthful. “I expected to find the four of you sprawled around this table with a dozen take-out dishes. Figured you would have some catching up to do.” Hiroaki looks around the room, as if he’s going to find the other three hiding somewhere. “Taichi was here last night, wasn’t he?”</p><p>“For a bit,” Yamato says, offering a half-truth, “He left.”</p><p>Yamato shuts his eyes so he can avoid his dad’s studious gaze. His dad might hardly ever be around, but Yamato’s long since learned that doesn’t mean he’s oblivious.</p><p>“Did you have an argument?” Hiroaki prods, proving Yamato’s point.</p><p>Yamato groans. He brings both hands down onto his face and rakes them over his eyes. “Why can’t you ask normal parent questions, dad?” Yamato deflects, “Like: how was tour? Did you have fun? Get into any trouble?”</p><p>Hiroaki chuckles. His chopsticks make a grating sound as they circle the bowl, trying to pick up the remainders of any noodles. “I don’t think normal parents have kids who go on tour and to the Digital World,” Hiroaki jokes.</p><p>Yamato groans again, and Hiroaki ceases his chuckling. He places the bowl on the living room table with the rest of the takeout dishes and adjusts in his chair, the old structure creaking as he leans back and places both his socked feet on the living room table, crossing them at the ankles.</p><p>When Yamato doesn’t say anything more, Hiroaki continues, repeating Yamato’s questions: “So, how was tour? Did you have fun? Get into any trouble?”</p><p>Despite himself, Yamato huffs out a laugh. “It was good, Dad,” he replies, “Extremely… professional. Felt like we launched out of garage band status and into something… real. I don’t know how to explain it. But it was fun. I mean, if that’s the most I get—if this band thing doesn’t go anywhere, then I’m really glad we did it. I’m glad I got to experience that.”</p><p>Yamato finishes by glancing at his dad and offering him a small smile. Yamato’s being truthful too: if he puts aside the whole Taichi-thing, ignores the undercurrent of unease that followed him, then it’s true, the week was great. He loves performing, the high, the feeling of being alive and thriving on the sound of the music around him. He could do this for the rest of his life. With any luck, maybe he will.</p><p>“And trouble?” Hiroaki says, teasingly.</p><p>“No more than usual,” Yamato replies, leaving it to his dad to interpret that.</p><p>Hiroaki chuckles again, knowingly. Yamato tilts his head back to the ceiling and closes his eyes.</p><p>“And where’s Gabumon?” Hiroaki asks, after a few minutes.</p><p>“I still need to pick him up from Koushiro’s,” Yamato responds, sighing at the reminder of the other participant in this whole debacle.</p><p>Hiroaki glances at his watch. “Still got time now,” he says, “School tomorrow, so I guess as a so-called ‘normal parent’ I should insist that you come back at a reasonable time.”  </p><p>“Okay,” Yamato says slowly, adjusting his position for the first time in a while to swing his legs off the couch. He stifles another sigh: maybe speaking to Koushiro will help clarify things for him. “I’ll be back soon.”</p><p>Hiroaki nods, leaning over to grab the remote control and flip on the television, as Yamato squeezes by and makes his way out of the apartment.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Yamato doesn’t go to Koushiro’s office, but rather his family’s apartment, and admittedly, it’s been a while since he’s been here. That doesn’t make Kae Izumi any less pleased to see him, ushering him in with vigour and sending him off to Koushiro’s bedroom with a plate of cookies in hand.</p><p>“Koushiro, Yamato’s here for Gabumon!” Tentomon buzzes, when Yamato knocks on the bedroom door quickly, before twisting the knob and poking his head inside, as he was instructed. The digimon beckons him in, and Yamato holds out the plate of cookies for Tentomon to take from his grasp.</p><p>“Hey,” Yamato says, when Koushiro notices him, taking off his headphones as Koushiro spins in his desk chair. “Hope I’m not interrupting,” he adds, watching as code streams down Koushiro’s desktop computer screen.</p><p>“Of course not,” Koushiro replies. He locks his desktop and whatever project Koushiro’s working on disappearing from view, as he leans over to zip open his backpack and takes out his laptop. Yamato wonders vaguely if its Gennai-related. “I can have Gabumon out in a few minutes.”</p><p>“Take a seat!” Tentomon offers, gesturing to the bed.</p><p>Yamato sits down cautiously on the edge of the bed, his bag discarded to the side. He sighs, placing his head in his hands. “Before you do that… is your offer to talk still good?” he asks, hoping he won’t regret this.</p><p>If Koushiro looks surprised, his tone doesn’t betray it: “Of course.”</p><p>He shuts his laptop and pushes in the keyboard to his desktop. The, leaning to the side, Koushiro opens a mini fridge hidden beneath his desk, pulling out two oolong tea bottles and handing one to Yamato. Koushiro exchanges a private look with Tentomon, who scoops two cookies off the plate and backs out of the room.</p><p>“You didn’t have to kick him out,” Yamato says, accepting the drink. He watches as Koushiro pushes the door to his room closed and sits back down in his desk chair, now spun to fully face Yamato.</p><p>Koushiro shrugs, opening his oolong tea bottle and tossing the cap behind him onto the desk, which is cluttered with several bottle caps. “My mom’s watching some soap opera. Tentomon enjoys it as well.”</p><p>Yamato nods, snapping off the bottle lid for something to do. He watches his own action intently, using it as an excuse to not look at Koushiro. Yamato’s not sure where to start, what to ask first, what answers to demand or accusations to make. He bites his lip instead, twisting the bottle around in his hand.</p><p>“I gather he told you,” Koushiro states, breaking the silence.</p><p>Yamato nods. He rubs at his temple with his right hand, while his left hand grasps the bottle tightly. “He’s not doing okay, is he?” Yamato finds himself asking, instead of the thousands of other questions running through his head. It’s not really a question either.</p><p>Koushiro hums softly, exchanging a sad look with Yamato. “He’s struggling. But he’s Taichi, I believe he’ll pull through.”</p><p>“It’s never been this bad before,” Yamato says, softly. “I don’t understand why he went back there. It was stupid. He’s never been <em>this</em> reckless.”</p><p>“This is personal for him,” Koushiro replies, just as soft, “He thinks this is the only way to keep us all safe.”</p><p>Yamato scowls, meeting Koushiro’s eyes for the briefest of seconds, before yanking his away, lest they give too much away. He doesn’t want to, but there’s a small part of Yamato that blames Koushiro for this mess: without Koushiro, Taichi would have never found Gennai. He wouldn’t be able to find Gennai. He’d still be safe. He’d have given up on this stupid mission.</p><p>“Has he told you everything?” Koushiro asks, breaking Yamato out of his thoughts.</p><p>“Bits and pieces,” Yamato admits, “I think there’s some things that he’s keeping to himself...”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Koushiro sighs, taking a sip of his tea, releasing his lips off the bottle top with a pop, “Taichi Yagami, saviour of the whole goddamn world.”</p><p>Yamato chuckles, despite himself. “He does have a terrible habit of putting everything on his own shoulders.”</p><p>Koushiro smiles, fleetingly. “He wouldn’t be half the person he is if he didn’t. It’s the thing I respect and loathe the most about him. About you too.”</p><p>“Me?”</p><p>“Indeed,” Koushiro says, “You lost your best friend, your partner, someone you love—” Yamato looks up at that word, a little bit of him crumbling as Koushiro says that word. He wonders if Koushiro knows, and tries to study his face, but there’s nothing there that gives it away. Yamato takes a sip of tea to try to keep his own face completely blank, but he’s not sure it matters, as Koushiro just continues, “—and you seem to have barely paused to consider what <em>you</em> went through. I’m not that interested in human behaviour, Yamato, but I do notice things.”</p><p>Yamato shrugs. “He almost died.”</p><p>“And you almost had to live with that,” Koushiro replies, quietly.  </p><p>Yamato bites at his bottom lip. His pulse quickens a bit, Koushiro’s words echoing exactly what Yamato told Taichi the day after he came back.</p><p>Yamato sighs, “It just seems insignificant in comparison.”</p><p>“I doubt the data supports that conclusion but try me.”</p><p>There’s a long pause. Koushiro kindly adverts his eyes, choosing to study the bottle oolong tea in his hands instead, which makes it slightly easier for Yamato to process his thoughts, to outline exactly why this adventure to the Digital World is upsetting him.</p><p>Finally, Yamato speaks again: “I’m having trouble letting him out of my sight. I feel anxious every time he leaves. More anxious than usual,” Yamato laughs, hollowly, and Koushiro smiles gently, eyes still focused on the bottle, analyzing the label. “I’m constantly scared. Especially now, knowing he… went back.”</p><p>Yamato puts the bottle down softly on the ground, then rakes his hands over his eyes again. Tries to erase the image of Taichi falling through the ground from the inside of his eyelids.</p><p>“I can’t tell him that though,” Yamato continues, with a sigh, “He’s dealing with enough. But every time he leaves, I feel like he’s disappeared again and I’m… afraid that he won’t come back this time. I still have nightmares about this all being a dream, and maybe he didn’t really make it back at all. He leaves my sight and I feel…” he trails off, unable to locate the right words.</p><p>“Helpless, all over again. Like you’ve let him down.” Koushiro supplies, softly.</p><p>Yamato looks up, surprised. “Yeah, exactly.”</p><p>Koushiro gives him an understanding nod.</p><p>“I feel that way every time Tentomon and I get knocked out of a fight and Taichi is left there fighting,” Koushiro says, tilting his head back on the headrest of his chair and looking at the ceiling thoughtfully, hands clasped around the tea bottle, holding it in his lap. “Every time that happens, part of me flashes back to how I felt during the fight against Peimon, where he and WarGreymon were both almost destroyed.” Koushiro pauses and takes a deep breath. “I’ve never felt so useless. Against Piemon, he wouldn’t let me fight and it felt like we were moments from losing him…Wargreymon was breaking apart and it felt like any second Taichi would break apart too. And there I was, not doing anything to stop it.”</p><p>There’s another long pause. Yamato opens his mouth to reply—to apologize again for that battle, something he’s never really forgiven himself for, but Koushiro waves him quiet, and Yamato’s mouth snaps shut.</p><p>“Sometimes I’m envious of how you can fight alongside him—quite literally <em>with </em>him. Your capacity to help him is so much greater than mine, or anyone else’s on the team,” Koushiro says, thoughtfully, peeling back the label on the bottle.</p><p>“In that particular example, I arrived just in time for us to all to get turned into keychains,” Yamato snaps bitterly, shaking his head.</p><p>Koushiro chuckles. “That <em>was</em> quite irritating.”</p><p>Yamato doesn’t laugh, so Koushiro stops himself by taking a sip of his tea to stifle the laughter, letting the tension lie for a minute.</p><p>“He’d never say that though,” Koushiro continues, “He wouldn’t even think it. To him you arrived at exactly the time you were supposed to, just as I did exactly what I was supposed to do.”</p><p>“And I was supposed to let him fall through the ground?” Yamato snaps, the tension billowing in his chest once more. Even as he speaks the words, he feels like he’s reliving it, all over again. “I shouldn’t have run out there and we’d all be okay.”</p><p>Koushiro purses his lips together. He tears a strip off the label and watches it fall to the floor. “You can play the what-if game forever, Yamato.”</p><p>“It’s true though!” Yamato argues, forcefully.</p><p>“We can’t possibly know that,” Koushiro replies, ever logical, “Regardless, of all the things haunting him, I doubt that particular decision is one of them.”</p><p>Yamato blinks at Koushiro, heavily. “Which decision?”</p><p>“Saving you,” Koushiro states, simply, tearing another strip off the label. “Run that through a simulation and he makes the same decision one hundred percent of the time. I’d put good money on that.”</p><p>Yamato scoffs, turning his head to the side to avoid Koushiro’s gaze. Even if that’s true, Yamato’s not sure he wants it to be.</p><p>“I don’t think he’s ever doubted for a second that you, at the end of the day, will always show up,” Koushiro muses. “For him. For us. He believed you would come during the battle of Piemon, and he believed you’d get us home and right the ship when he chose your life over his during that battle with Jesmon and Alphamon. If or when something happens to him, he knows you’ll be there to take up the cause in his absence. Exactly like you did.”</p><p>“I was shit at it.”</p><p>“No, you weren’t,” Koushiro says, without missing a beat, “You held us together.”</p><p>Yamato scowls. He was shit at it; he knows this. Taichi’s faith in him has always been misplaced, as far as he’s concerned, or at very least exaggerated.</p><p>“He believes in all of us, but his belief in <em>you</em> is so much greater. It’s infuriating sometimes, and also inspiring,” Koushiro says and then takes a long sip of his tea, a slightly envious look flickering across his face.</p><p>“What are you trying to say?” Yamato mutters.</p><p>“I suppose I am meandering around the point,” Koushiro chuckles, regaining his composure.</p><p>Yamato wants to tell him that yes, he is, like fucking always, but instead he just looks at Koushiro expectantly.</p><p>“Yamato, he’d never expect you to struggle through any of this alone. Or to do any of it alone...” Koushiro pauses and clicks his tongue, “And under normal circumstances, Yamato, he’d have noticed that you’re struggling—you’re both struggling—and probably would have deciphered exactly why. But these aren’t normal circumstances.”</p><p>“No, I guess they’re not,” Yamato echoes, wringing his hands.</p><p>“So, you have to tell him. Voice it, so you guys can struggle through this shit together, like you always do,” Koushiro tells him. He shrugs, like his point should be obvious. Another piece of label floats to the floor and both boys watch it.</p><p>Yamato bits his bottom lip hard, only stopping when a bit of blood seeps into his mouth. He dabs at his lip with his hand. “It just seems unfair to burden him more.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Koushiro agrees, “But he’d want you to tell him.”</p><p>“Did you ever tell him how you felt during the Piemon battle?” Yamato asks, because he does truly want to know.</p><p>“Yes,” Koushiro affirms, though he looks slightly embarrassed.</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“He was angry at me for carrying that—for blaming myself,” Koushiro tells him, looking directly at Yamato for the first time this entire conversation. “Because in his eyes, I wasn’t letting him die, I was saving our strength to protect things that are more important to him than his own life– his sister, our friends.” An elongated pause. “You. The fate of the world, I suppose. I wasn’t letting him down, I was… doing the hard thing, for ultimately the right reasons. I suppose he’s sort of an expert in that.”</p><p>“Are you going to help him?” Yamato asks, unsure whether he’s prepared to hear the answer, “To find Gennai?”</p><p>Yamato lifts his head out of his hands to find Koushiro looking seriously at him. Yamato’s gut twists.</p><p>“Yes, I am,” Koushiro says, voice tight.</p><p>“What happens…” Yamato starts, then swallows hard, “What happens if something happens to him—” He bites his lip, then corrects himself, “To either of you.”</p><p>Koushiro purses his lips white, before answering, tentatively: “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that nothing happens to us.” He pulls at a stuck piece of label, using his nail to dig at it. “I don’t want to lose him either, Yamato.”</p><p>“I know,” Yamato says, having to strain to force his voice to a volume above a whisper.</p><p>“He’s determined,” Koushiro clarifies, “It’s personal for him. I have to help him—I can’t just stand by and watch this time. He’s going to do this—persevere—no matter what.”</p><p>Yamato sighs, tucking his face into his hands. “I guess he’s sort of an expert in that too.”</p><p>Koushiro laughs, softly. It’s a strained laugh; a laugh of a person who has resigned himself to an uncomfortable reality. Then, tearing the last part of the label off the bottle and watching it fall to the floor, Koushiro muses, “It’s hard being friends with a martyr, isn’t it?”</p><p>They both laugh this time, twins in their resignation.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Yamato slams his locker shut with a thud. His head almost follows, but he stops himself short: it’s probably too early in the term for those types of dramatics. Instead, he tucks his book under his arm and looks down the hallway, towards where Taichi and Sora’s lockers are, neither of who have appeared yet.</p><p>He’s not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He needs to talk to both of them, but there’s a gigantic knot in his stomach at the thought of actually doing so.</p><p>It’s nearing time to go to homeroom, and the hallways are starting to get busier. Students pour into the hallways, a steady hum of chatter filling the hallways, as teenagers gather their things and catch up with their friends.</p><p>“Hi, Yamato!” one of those classmate’s, a pretty girl with long straight black hair waves at him—Hanna, he thinks— calls, flirtatiously.</p><p>Yamato nods back, forcing his lips to curve to reward her with a brief smile. The girl giggles, wiggling her fingers at him in a small wave as she continues along the hallway, linking arms with another female student.</p><p>“Hi, Yamato,” another female voice mimics behind him, low, teasing and punctuated with a laugh.</p><p>Yamato turns to find himself face to face with Mimi, leaning against the locker, her smile hidden behind her hand. He glares at her and Mimi laughs again.</p><p>“Hi Mimi,” Yamato grumbles.</p><p>“Why, hello, Yamato,” Mimi says, again, running her fingers through her hair as she gloats. “Are you already setting your eyes on a fall romance? Anna’s cute. I didn’t think she’d be your type though.” She peers around him, looking after the girl.</p><p>Yamato frowns. “I thought it was Hanna.”</p><p>Mimi arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “It’s <em>definitely </em>Anna<em>.</em>”</p><p>Yamato opens his mouth to argue, but just as quickly shuts it, clenching his jaw in the process. He’s not sure why he’s arguing this, it’s not like he’s interested. <em>And you’ve got bigger issues</em>, he thinks, sparing another look in the direction of Taichi’s locker.</p><p>Mimi follows his gaze. “Did you talk to Taichi?”</p><p>Yamato nods curtly, and the two of them start to walk in the direction of his homeroom, even though Mimi’s in the complete opposite direction.</p><p>“It was a mess,” Mimi continues, as they walk, “It was like Taichi was possessed. He was willing to go to such extraordinary lengths.”</p><p>“I heard,” Yamato replies, grimacing. An image of Taichi’s dark evolution line, the one incompatible with Gabumon, rises in his head unwanted. “SkullGreymon.”</p><p>“Yes, that, but also the way he wanted to wake up Gennai…”</p><p>Mimi keeps talking, but Yamato is only half listening, having already gotten most of the debrief from Koushiro and, later that night, Sora. Instead, Yamato pretends to listen, as his mind starts running through scenarios, trying to find the best path to tell Taichi ‘<em>hey, I’m fucking paralyzed by the thought of losing you again</em>’.</p><p>“Do you really think he would have gone through with that?” Mimi asks, and Yamato blows air through his teeth before shrugging. “For a minute, I thought he would, but that’s insane, right? Yamato—”</p><p>Mimi stops short just as the two of them round the corner and Taichi and Sora’s homeroom comes into view. The classroom previously belonging to Nishijima.</p><p>“Oh,” Mimi says, and <em>oh </em>is right.</p><p>To the left of the door, lined up against the wall, is a small, but growing, memorial. Little trinkets and flowers and paper notes all piled next to Nishijima’s classroom, left there by students and, presumably, other faculty members. The small memorial is colourful and beautiful and slowly growing. A small crowd has gathered in front of it, and, at the moment, a girl is bent over the memorial, sliding a flower made out of paper into the arms of a small stuffed animal.</p><p>“I heard he was killed in the attack by the digimon at the river,” a male student near the back of the crowd says, in a stage whisper.</p><p>“Mr. Nishijima was one of all those casualties?” another guy asks, sounding shocked.</p><p>Another girl says, clinging to her friend, “Really? That’s terrifying. Those monsters are <em>so </em>dangerous.”</p><p>“I don’t know why the defence force doesn’t just deal with them all,” another guy mutters.</p><p>Yamato clenches his fist and starts to step forward, a string of curse words on his tongue, when Mimi lays a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Yamato...” Mimi murmurs, drawing his attention away from the students gathered in front of Nishijima’s classroom and diverting it behind them.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” a familiar voice is pleading, her hand clutching at the elbow of her companion. “Taichi, I really am sorry.”</p><p>“Okay, Sora,” Taichi is saying, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder as the two of them, accompanied by Koushiro, stride towards where Yamato and Mimi are standing, at the intersection of the two hallways. “I understand.”</p><p>And he does look like he forgives her, Taichi’s face open and honest, even he looks exhausted. Taichi smiles at Sora, before he turns his head, eyes meeting Yamato’s as they continue to walk. Any second now, they’ll turn the corner.</p><p>“Taichi—” Yamato says quickly, trying to warn him. To give him some heads up about what he’s about to see and hear.</p><p>“Oh hey,” Sora says, brightly, as the three other Chosen pull up beside Yamato and Mimi.</p><p>Yamato spares Sora a quick glance and then looks back at Taichi, who is already staring at over Yamato’s shoulder. Taichi’s jaw tightens, as his eyes settle on the memorial.</p><p>“I hope whoever is responsible for this gets what they deserve,” another student says.</p><p>The colour drains out of Taichi’s face almost instantaneously.</p><p>The student’s friends chorus their agreement. “The government can’t let good people keep dying because of those <em>monsters</em>.”</p><p>Taichi takes a giant step back. A range of emotions flash over his face, and for a moment, Yamato fears he’s going to crumble. That Taichi will hit the floor of the hallway in a heap of panic, like he did in his apartment a few weeks ago.</p><p>“It’s just so awful,” another student says, tearily, bending to lay something on the memorial.</p><p>Sora lays a hand on Taichi’s arm, but he jerks it away, turning on his heel and walking hastily down the hallway.</p><p>“Taichi!” Sora calls, her voice lofting down the hallway unanswered, as Taichi bolts.</p><p>Beside Sora, Koushiro stands staring down the hallway after Taichi; his hand is frozen in mid-air, halfway into his backpack, fingers clasped around the ridges of his laptop.</p><p>“We should go after him,” Sora says, as the students surrounding them start to move towards homeroom. She looks to Yamato, eyes pleading. “I can cover for him in homeroom, but someone—”</p><p>“I’ll go,” Koushiro announces, punctuated by the quick zip of his backpack. “I’m already two weeks ahead anyway,” he adds, as he jogs away from them.</p><p><em>That should be you, </em>Yamato thinks, mentally kicking himself as he watches Koushiro follow Taichi down the hallway. He can hear Sora and Mimi talking in indistinguishable tones beside him, the voices of the other students barely registering.</p><p><em>Go after him, </em>Yamato thinks, <em>he needs you.</em></p><p>And yet, Yamato feels glued to his spot, completely unable to move.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Armed with the first day’s homework assignment he managed to get from Sora and with Gabumon at his side, Yamato takes in a deep breath and raps on the door to the Yagami’s apartment. Almost instantly, he hears a female voice call out, “Coming!” and then a few seconds later, Hikari opens the door. </p><p>She glances at him, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Oh, Yamato,” Hikari says, her tongue swiping quickly across her lip, “I thought you’d be Takeru.”</p><p>“Sorry. Wrong brother.” Yamato shrugs, forcing out a chuckle.</p><p>“Are Agumon and Taichi here?” Gabumon asks, peering around their legs.</p><p>“No worries,” Hikari replies, opening the door wider so Yamato can take a step inside the apartment. “Yes, he’s here. They’re both in his room.” Her brow furrows together for a quick second, before her face settles back into her normally graceful features. “He was banished there after dinner. Our parents aren’t too happy with him skipping the first day of the term.” </p><p>“Skipping,” Yamato repeats.</p><p>Hikari eyes him. “I figure there’s more to it than that.”</p><p>“You’d be correct,” Yamato replies, looking past her into the empty living area.</p><p>He finds himself gritting his teeth, standing there awkwardly in the entrance way with Hikari, debating whether he needs to say anything else or if he can just step past her. They’ve barely exchanged dozen words since the camping trip and he’s still not sure how to demonstrate the compassion Sora’s instructed him to show her. He can’t even take his own advice: find a way to forgive her for the way she’s treated Taichi, just for the sake of the team and the implicit need for them all to trust each other. His hackles are rising just standing here.</p><p>And she’s likely thinking the same thing, based on the way she awkwardly toes the tatami.</p><p>“You can go right in, if you want,” Hikari says, and Yamato leaps at the opportunity, bowing out of the awkwardness with a nod of his head.</p><p>Yamato raps cautiously at Taichi’s bedroom door, but Gabumon’s more exuberant, exclaiming, “Agumon! Taichi!”</p><p>There’s a clattering inside the room which can only be Agumon climbing down from the top bunk. Only a few seconds separate Gabumon’s cry and Agumon flinging open the door.</p><p>“Gabumon!” Agumon cries, as if it’s been years since they saw each other. “Hikari brought home sweets, do you want some?”</p><p>Gabumon’s eyes widen in excitement. Agumon grabs the other digimon’s arm with a toothy grin, pulling him towards the kitchen. Yamato hasn’t even uttered a word before the two digimon escape from the room in a flurry of blue, white, and orange.</p><p>“Traitor,” Yamato mutters under his breath, as he thinks, <em>so much for a buffer.</em></p><p>Across the room, Taichi is lying on the bottom bunk, football in his lap, likely previously having been spinning it in the air while he thinks. “Hikari brought dorayaki for Tailmon,” Taichi explains, tilting his head towards the door, “I think Agumon’s eaten most of it.”</p><p>“Oh,” Yamato responds. He closes the door behind him, and tries to lean casually against the doorframe, holding his bag in front of him like a shield.</p><p>Taichi pushes up on his elbows to look at Yamato with a degree of nervousness. He’s bent awkwardly at an angle and hair flattened by the bunk above him, his upper body too tall to sit up comfortably on the bottom bunk anymore. “You came by...”</p><p>Yamato unzips his bag and lifts out the excuse he brought with him. “Homework,” he explains, showing Taichi the book and assignment sheet as proof, before setting it down on the table that hosts Taichi’s television.</p><p>“Ah,” Taichi hums, face falling slightly.</p><p>“And also…” Yamato bites his lip and folds his arms across his chest, before continuing: “Are you okay?”</p><p>Nodding, Taichi starts to swing his legs out of bed, and Yamato makes a split-second decision, crossing the room in a few short strides to the edge of Taichi’s bed. Waving his hand, he shoos Taichi back onto the far side and slides himself onto the bed. He folds his hands across his lap, avoiding touching Taichi for now, even if a part of him is screaming to re-establish their physical connection.</p><p>“Are you sure?” Yamato asks again, laying down next to Taichi and staring up at the bunk above them. There are sketches on the wood from where they’ve both scrawled small drawings over the years; bars of music added by Yamato himself, and, in Taichi’s case, rough drawings of tiny dinosaurs and horned reptilian monsters. In the corner, there’s a tally of games of <em>Call of Duty</em> won, skewered unfortunately far in Taichi’s favour. “It’s okay if you’re not,” Yamato adds.</p><p>“I’m fine now,” Taichi says, softly, “I should have expected that—of course there’d be something for him. I guess I just wasn’t prepared for it.” Taichi pauses and takes a ragged breath in. “Or what our classmates would be saying.”</p><p>“They don’t know shit,” Yamato growls, anger flickering up again. “They’re wrong about the digimon.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Taichi agrees quietly. He reaches above them and traces one of the tiny Agumon’s with his finger. The lines are a bit rough, but the image is clear enough—eons away from the map Taichi drew when they were kids. The tiny little line art always having been a surprising talent for a kid everyone views as the stereotypical athlete. “I… worked it off. The panic. Anger. Whatever.”</p><p>“Oh, okay. Good,” Yamato responds, feeling stupidly awkward. Part of him wants to prod, but he stops himself short before asking for details.</p><p>“Is that really the only reason you came by?”</p><p>Yamato pauses, chewing on his bottom lip. “No,” he says, truthfully.</p><p>The bed creeks as Taichi rolls onto his side. “Yama, I’m sorry we fought. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I <em>was</em> always going to tell you.”</p><p>“I know,” Yamato replies, brushing off the rationalization. “That’s not what—well not the main thing—I wanted to talk about.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p><em>Say it, </em>Yamato orders himself, <em>Tell him. </em></p><p>Yamato blows out air between his teeth. This is not his strong suit: talking about his feelings has never been something he’s been at ease with and talking things out is certainly not a strength of Taichi and his relationship. He’s innately aware that this is the point at which one of them would usually bail, leaving the feelings and argument to fester and grow.</p><p>But he can’t do that this time. Not if he wants <em>them </em>to survive, both in the figurative relationship sense, but also, maybe in the literal sense too.</p><p>“We’ve never talked about,” Yamato starts, smacking his lips together as he searches for words, “What it... feels like for us when Gabumon and Agumon are Omegamon.”</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Yamato can see Taichi’s brow furrow in confusion, as he rises up on his elbow, looming over Yamato as he says, “I know I never gave you a reason for Omegamon breaking up.”</p><p>“I’m not talking about Omegamon breaking apart,” Yamato counters, closing his eyes for a second to steel himself, “I mean, we’ve never talked about Jogress, in general…”</p><p>“Oh,” Taichi says, raking his bottom lip between his teeth. “We have so.”</p><p>“Not really,” Yamato objects, he wraps one hand around his other wrist, tapping nervous chords against it while continuing to stare up at the wood panel above him. “We’ve talked about needing Omegamon to win. But we’ve never talked about what it feels like, or what it means to us…”</p><p>Taichi frowns at him. “Yama, you know it means a lot to me—”</p><p>“Stop,” Yamato interrupts, working hard to keep his voice calm, steady, “Let me finish, okay? I need you to let me finish.”</p><p>Yamato twists his head to the side, meeting Taichi’s eyes, those pools of brown focused on squarely on him. Taichi pulls his lower lip into his mouth, chewing on it, and for a second Yamato thinks he’ll protest, but then Taichi gives him a reluctant nod and settles back onto his side of the bed.</p><p>Sighing, Yamato glances back up at the bunk above him so it’s easier to talk. He takes deep breath.</p><p>“When we first got Omegamon,” Yamato starts, “It was just… a necessity. We <em>needed </em>him and he appeared. Neither of us were prepared for it. It was so sudden I couldn’t even process it at the time—there was just this warmth that overtook me, and then one minute you were there and then you were <em>really </em>there. And then it was over, and I found myself back in Shimane.”</p><p>Yamato pauses, waiting for a sarcastic comment about ‘Shimane being the one with no computers’, but Taichi stays quiet. Yamato feels relieved. He needs to get this out.</p><p>“I spent days trying to figure out what I had felt. How it was possible that I’d felt <em>you. </em>Not just your heartbeat alongside mine—I felt that too—but also…” Yamato takes a breath, choosing his words carefully, so that it explicitly explains his experience—and hopefully doesn’t differ from Taichi’s. “It was like everything that makes you <em>you </em>overlapped with what makes me, me.”</p><p>Closing his eyes for a second, Yamato opens them again once he’s turned his head to look fully at Taichi, flinching ever so slightly when he sees how closely Taichi is watching him. It’s nerve-wracking, not knowing for sure if this is resonating with Taichi. Yamato searches his eyes for some indication he feels the same way, relaxing slightly when he finds a softness, a form of understanding, in there.</p><p>He focuses back on the space above him before continuing. “Koushiro’s said stuff about compatible energies and operating on the same wavelengths, and maybe that’s true,” Yamato says, and Taichi huffs out a low laugh, “But, to me, it was more than that. And it’s felt like from then on, I was carrying a piece of you along with me, somewhere inside me…  And for once, I wasn’t… alone anymore.”</p><p>Yamato swallows audibly, gulping down the emotion that’s susceptible to make his voice crack. Taichi doesn’t say anything, but his hand shifts enough for his finger to graze Yamato’s elbow, a brief contact that helps Yamato steady himself, just enough.</p><p>“It’s this connection unique to the two of us. And after every time we’ve jogressed, I’ve felt like I get to keep a little more of you. Enough that sometimes, if I concentrate, I can feel you out there. I know you’re somewhere,” Yamato says, voice quieter than he’d like. “And when Omegamon exists, I can feel you, completely. Like your essence is inside my soul.”</p><p>“Same. That’s how it feels for me too,” Taichi says, softly. He blushes ever so slightly when Yamato turns to meet his eyes. The two of them share a smile. “I thought that was maybe a good time to chime in,” Taichi adds, sheepishly.</p><p>“Okay—good. I’m glad,” Yamato whispers.</p><p>Taichi reaches for Yamato’s hand and Yamato lets him pick it up. He lets himself sit with that feeling for a minute, relishing the warmth of Taichi’s fingers threaded through his.</p><p>He’s so determined to never let go of this hand.</p><p>Yamato takes a deep breath. “So, when you… fell…” Yamato says, feeling his voice teetering on the edge, “It felt like you were wrenched out of me. Like all those parts of you that I got to keep were taken and it <em>hurt</em>.” Yamato blinks back a few tears, desperate for them not to fall. “One second I could feel you with me, and the next you were just gone.”</p><p>“Yamato—”</p><p>Yamato shakes his head, taking back his hands so he can hold them against his face, as if the pressure might keep back his emotions. “I could hear and feel you inside of me, and then I just <em>couldn’t</em>. I was just empty,” he says, knowing his voice sounds broken, “I didn’t have any of you anymore. I thought you were gone. Really gone.”</p><p>He can feel it, even as he speaks: the feeling of panic that surged through him as he realized that part of him had disappeared through the cracks. And the eerie sense of emptiness that had settled in the places where Taichi used to be.</p><p>“That was the worst moment of my fucking life,” Yamato continues, once he’s caught his breath. “You were just torn out of me. I thought I was going to have to live <em>without</em> you.” Yamato keeps his eyes directed away from Taichi, knowing there’s tears building up there that he’s unwilling to shed. “And now you went back, and you want to go after Gennai—and part of me understands, but I don’t want to—I <em>can’t</em>—go through that again.”</p><p>“Yama,” Taichi says, turning on his side and reaching for Yamato’s hand again, “Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise.”</p><p>Yamato lets out a sound that is half laugh and half exasperation. “You can’t promise me that.”</p><p>Taichi frowns. “Okay, maybe not, but even so—</p><p>“Why does it need to be you? You don’t trust that Homeostasis will fix this?” Yamato interrupts, but even as he asks, he knows what answer Taichi will give him.</p><p>“No,” Taichi replies, predictably, eyes narrowing instantly. “Do you?”</p><p>Yamato draws in a ragged breath. Despite their encounters with Homeostasis, the being has never seemed to be completely on their side. Rather, Homeostasis is just dedicated to promoting balance, by whatever means it can. Whether Homeostasis actually cares about a rogue-Gennai running around the Digital World is a matter of considerable debate.</p><p>“No,” Yamato answers, honestly.</p><p>“See? Then we have no choice.”</p><p>Yamato squeezes his eyes shut. “But why you? What if something happens to you? What if he takes you, like he took Daisuke?”</p><p>“That’s the point, Yamato. He could take any of us—we need to make sure that doesn’t happen!” Taichi protests. He sounds like he’s going to keep arguing, but something on Yamato’s face makes him reconsider. He takes a breath, sounding pained when he continues: “I didn’t mean it to sound so… flippant about the possibility of that. I’m going to be careful. We’ll all be careful.” Taichi tightens his grip on Yamato’s hand. “Plus, I know you’d find me.”</p><p>“I didn’t before,” Yamato says, stating the truth, laying down his guilt.</p><p>“You would have though, if you hadn’t needed to fight.”</p><p>“Takeru didn’t.”</p><p>Taichi’s inhales sharply. “No offence to Takeru and Iori, but they’re not us,” Taichi says, sounding so sure of himself, “And you're not Takeru. They have a partnership, but not the way we do. Our connection goes far beyond that. You would have come for me, if you could. I know that. I’ve never doubted that. Not once. Not after all I’ve felt from you.”</p><p>Yamato’s heart feels like it’s in his throat. He can feel every piece of guilt and every inkling of fear vividly. But while Yamato feels unsure, Taichi sounds confident. Assured. Unwavering. It makes Yamato want to follow him anywhere, and part of Yamato hates that.</p><p>“I have to find Gennai, Yamato. And I need you to do so,” Taichi says, “We owe it to Daisuke and the others that were taken.” His voice gets slightly more tense: “I owe it to Nishijima.”</p><p>Yamato watches Taichi’s face: his jaw set firmly, resolve in his eyes. He has the same look of pure determination on his face that he’s worn a thousand times before—the look that, over the years, has both angered Yamato and drawn Yamato in. It’s the thing Yamato both respects and loathes most about him. And the thing Yamato would never change. It’s the tenacity and grit and courage that Yamato knows is going to drive Taichi forward, no matter how hard Yamato protests.</p><p>“Okay then,” Yamato whispers, resigned.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Believe it or not, the Koushiro-Yamato scene was one of the first ones I ever wrote. So glad it's finally out there now! Secretly, this is a Koushiro-stan fic. </p><p>Please leave me a comment if you can! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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